9 Crimes
by goblinesque
Summary: Pure evil is found every once in a while within the mind of a true psychopath. Time is ticking for the next victim. Her life depends on the ability for to competing agents to come together with the good doctor's help to solve this case by putting together both their unique talents. An abusive man is lurking in the dark waiting for his chance.
1. Strong But Broken

**Chapter 1: Strong But Broken**

**A/N: I don't own anything but my own characters. Also this isn't going to be a romantic story.**

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Scrubbed white walls and countless white tiles glared at the seasoned FBI agent as she sat with broken nerves on a hard gurney. Beeping sounds escaped from machines around her that fit in perfect harmony with the busy sounds that came from the hallway of the hospital.

Salome Ashwood sat upon the gurney, blood stained her white button up shirt, as she waited for a doctor or a nurse to check in on her. Blood had dried from her broken upper lip and the white taut skin around her bloodshot right cerulean eye was now turning a dark purple. Her long dark brunette hair fell in ringlets from her pony tail and bunched around her neck as she looked down at the waxed white floor.

"Ms. Ashwood," a mousy voice said from the doorway.

Salome looked up to see a woman in bright green scrubs slowly walking into her room with a large aging man moving closely behind her. Jack Crawford looked over her with sympathy in his eyes as he took in the wounds that she had suffered from a horrible incident.

"The doctor wants me to sew that nasty gash on your wrist," the nurse informed her as she moved to sit in the doctor's rolling chair and scooted toward her. The wheels cut across the floor producing an annoying, metallic upon plastic sound to enter the room and finally ending when the nurse reached a suitable space to perform the simple procedure.

"I know you hate when I ask," Jack Crawford said as he looked down at the tools at the nurses' side then up to his agent to see the ugly bruises that formed from the effects of a man's hand, "But are you okay?"

"It's fine," she said to the nurse, with a slight Southern drawl that she had never been able to keep hidden, she looked over Crawford and added with a forced smile to hide the shame and embarrassment that gripped tightly inside her chest, "I'm peachy, Jack. How 'bout you?"

Crawford smiled as he watched the nurse pull his agent's newly cleaned arm up on a clean table and watched as the needle and thread moved closer to the open gash on her wrist.

"Not too good Sally," he replied with a shake of his head as he looked over the seemingly cool headed woman that sat proudly as the silver needle pierced her thin skin.

She turned her attention away from her arm and bit at her bottom lip as an uncomfortable pain entered her body as the anesthetic slowly entered her body, blood from her lip wound slowly oozed out and stained her white teeth as she bit down. A hiss escaped her as the nurse pulled two pieces of flesh closer and closer together. She took a deep breath as tears filled her eyes as she thought of the events that had occurred in her home only a short time ago.

'_Whatever you do, don't let them see you cry,' _the voice of an older female agent had told her when she first came to the Bureau. It was something that had stuck with her. It was how she behaved in her career. She never let her fellow agents or superiors see her in such a vulnerable state, whether it was physical or emotional. It was something that she had to keep to as she thought of his hands coming down upon her. She may have been beaten, but she would never be a victim.

"How's Rick," she asked softly, referring to her fiancée that had caused the injuries. Salome looked over to Crawford and gave him a soft, sympathetic smile though her one blue eye glared at him with dangerous knowledge that lurked within the battered frame that her soul inhabited. She watched as he moved up and down on the balls of his feet in slight nervousness.

"You are in hot shit for this Sally," he informed her in a hushed tone as he looked over to the nurse who was busy sewing his agent's pale skin together, "He's in ICU."

Salome rolled her eyes at her boss and replied, "What was I supposed to do? Just let him kill me? I did what I did in the moment…and I don't regret it. Would you let it happen to-"

"You shot him in the chest," Crawford answered in a hurried tone, "He could die and then-"

"He's not going to die," she interrupted quickly as a slight hiss of pain escaped her from the sudden jerk as the stitching came closer to an end.

"Sorry," the young nurse peeped up as she looked up to the dark haired agent with soft, apologetic brown eyes. Salome only acknowledged the young nurse for a moment before placing her attentions back upon her superior.

"And what makes you so sure," he asked quickly.

She smiled at him and replied smugly, "Because I was trained by the best on how to take down a suspect."

"Sally," he whispered, exasperated by the situation that they were facing, "The Tattler is going to get ahold of this, they will-"

"I don't care," she said with a harshness that she had rarely had to use against her superior, "I don't give a flying rat's ass about Freddie Lounds or any other of the slime balls from that paper. My fiancée came at me with a knife after a long night of drinking and drug use. He pinned me on the ground and beat me repeatedly when I got the knife from him. I shot him. End of story."

Jack Crawford shook his head at his agent, an agent that had left the FBI for a job with the CIA, but for some unknown reason had come back to him after her celebrated infiltration of a terror cell in India. To say that Salome Ashwood was anything less than a great agent was a gross lie; she was one of the best agents that he had the privilege in taking under his wing so long ago. She had been one of a great few that he had placed in his pack. Salome Ashwood reminded him of his missing agent and because of that fact, he was protective over her.

"The doctor wants me to do a rape kit," the nurse announced as she cut the medical thread and patched her arm up with clean cotton bandages and medical tape.

"He didn't rape me," Salome answered quickly as she glared down at the young nurse, a dark smile crossed her face, "I shot him before he had the chance. Haven't you been keeping up?"

"Salome," Crawford said with a tone that reminded her of the tone a father would use when reprimanding his young child, "This is serious."

"And I'm telling you that-"

"I want you to go in for a psych evaluation," he informed her quickly with harsh eyes as he looked her over. He ignored the disbelief that radiated within her eyes as she glared up at him. He watched as the nurse quickened her pace to escape the oncoming battle of wills that soon would begin within the white walls of the hospital room.

"What," she asked quickly in disbelief. "I'm not crazy, Jack."

"This has happened before Sal," he informed her in a matter of fact tone, "You already shot a man in front of school children."

Salome shook her head and smiled in slight annoyance as she reminded him, "They were in a school bus that had no business being there at that time."

"I can't have you shooting people left and right, Salome," he informed her loudly in order to get his point across. He watched as her face sat stern and level as she pondered his words.

"Please," he said as he looked at her bruised face, "For me. I would like to have a decent night's sleep without the higher ups and the Tattler calling me all night for information about the mental health of my best agent. I need my beauty sleep."

She rolled her eyes at his words and finally gave in with his request with a shrug of her shoulders.

"My wife would greatly appreciate it as well," he added with a knowing smile as he watched Salome slowly giving into his request.

"So who are you sending me to Jack," she asked as her eyes moved away from him and towards the cleaned wound on her wrist, "I can't see Doctor-"

"No," he informed her with a slight chuckle, "Dr. Chilton has made me very aware of the situation."

She closed her eyes at the man's name. She quickly looked back up to her boss and asked with a level tone, "What's his name, Jack?"

Crawford smile faded as he watched the beaten Salome rip the silver diamond engagement ring from her finger and place it upon the counter near the trash cans and sterling silver sink. He smiled at the strength that his agent possessed. He knew of her past and to say that she was a weak person was a lie. A young woman that must care for her teenaged sister all on her own after troubling family issues and have a stressful career at the same time is a woman that contains a great strength inside. But he knew that she was human, and she had been broken a few times before.

"A Dr. Hannibal Lecter," he informed her.

"Lecter," she asked as her brows furrowed slightly, she looked around the room as she tossed the name around in her mind, "Where have I heard that name from? Sounds familiar."

"It should," he replied curtly, "He's a consultant. He's working alongside Will Graham right now."

"Oh," she said with a slight nod of her head in acknowledgement as she walked through the door frame, "Make me an appointment with this Dr. Lecter then, Jack," she smiled at him, "Now if you excuse me, I have a house to clean up and locks to change."

"We'll have uniforms surrounding your house Sally," he called after her as he watched her hurrying toward the nurses' station to retrieve her discharge papers. He shook his head at the level headed agent. He knew her well. He knew that the incident was eating inside of her like a parasite; he knew that it would soon manifest itself in a nasty way just as he had experienced with her before, and he wanted to get a handle on it before he had a mess to clean up.

Dr. Lecter was doing a fine job with Will and he had the utmost faith that he could help Salome through this crisis.

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**I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. It's more of an introduction. Reviews are always amazing**


	2. Victims of Violence

**Chapter 2: Victims of Violence**

**WARNING: There is some dark scenes and thoughts in this chapter. So there's a trigger warning here.**

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He watched the young girl through his thick, black rimmed glasses. He watched as the five year old blonde girl with beautiful bright blue eyes pulled a small toy behind her, the toy made a loud musical noise as it moved over the white rocks that made up the road in front of an abandoned factory building, a perfect place for his victim. He watched as her pink skirt billowed as the chilly autumn air blew around her.

True, he normally enjoyed taking young boys; he could bend his own rules just this once. She did meet his criterion with her sparkling blue eyes and golden blonde hair, just as he had as a child. He hid inside the darkness of the factory like a black widow spider waiting in the corner of her web for the unsuspecting fly to get tangled in her intricate trap. He had watched her for weeks, he had only been seen once but he knew that no one had paid him any mind. He knew where she went to play after her kindergarten classes; he knew what she named her doll that she secretly brought to school with her every day without her mother's knowledge.

The papers had called him the Wolf Moon Killer. He would enjoy bringing fear into these young children before he ended their lives. He killed them during the day and disposed of their bodies at night when no one would be about to find him doing this horrific deed. The head, he brought with him as a trademark when he kidnapped a child, it sent more fear through the parent of the missing child than no evidence at all. He knew what he was doing was inherently wrong and evil, but he just didn't care. He enjoyed doing it. In his own mind, he believed that he was the perfect psychopathic serial killer. He believed that he would never be bested. He would simply be one of the greatest.

He turned from his view of the young girl and smiled as he taped a recording of a kitten crying for help upon the wall that he had tweaked for his little mousy detective. He wanted to test her, to see if she was really as good as the papers had said she was. He had placed the head of his latest victim perfectly on the floor so when the detective walked in, it would be the first thing that she would see. That lovely little detective that had been recently assigned upon his murders, oh he would enjoy playing with her.

"Kitty," he heard the soft, innocent voice of the young girl ask as she scurried into the dark building where she had no business being into, "Here kitty, kitty, kitty."

He watched with a demonic smile as the girl walked into his trap. He hurried behind her and readied the wrench that he held in his hand. With one quick blow he watched as his victim fell to the ground like a rag doll, blonde ringlets covered her face as her blood stained them.

He smiled as he looked down at his new toy, his new doll. She was a perfect angel that was so full of innocence that she had slipped into a trap that would lead to her own death.

"Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly," he announced with a chuckle as he picked the light body from the ground and threw her over his shoulder taking her to Hell with him.

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Pictures of destroyed bodies stared back at Salome as she sat patiently in the silent waiting room as she waited for her forced appointment with Dr. Lecter. Her eyes ached as they moved over every detail within each photograph, her fingers lightly touched over the pale bodies just as a sudden pain from her stitched wound throbbed in an attempt to tell her not to touch. The heads from young boys had been removed from their bodies. That was one of the styles this crazed psychopath enjoyed. He would remove the children's heads and place them on display, seemingly to mock the parents of his victims and the agents involved. The rest of the body would be found miles down the road, days later. Three bodies and three heads had been found; the next would soon come, she knew.

The first photo that she held in her hand was from a murder in Virginia by the killer dubbed The Wolf Moon Killer, who enjoyed kidnapping young boys between the ages of five and seven. His victim's all had certain details in common. The three victims were blonde and blue eyed.

"Suspect may have unnatural obsession with German culture, specifically World War II," she said to herself as she held a small recording device in her hand, "Other theory is, killer may be blue eyed and fair haired himself. Killer is male, possible history of child abuse or rape from adolescence or teenage life based on semen found on the outside of victim's body, not on the inside-gives one the idea that he ejaculates after victim's death. No DNA matches found," she closed her eyes as she looked down at the bodies to see marks on each of the buttocks, "Forensics reports that child was whipped an hour before actual death occurred."

Salome scrambled through each of the photos, taking in each of the horrific wounds on the young bodies. She bit back the disgust that radiated through her body as she looked at missing chunks upon the boys' buttocks. It was horrific to look at. She didn't want to think of what the young boys went through, but she would have to eventually to save other victims.

"Killer removes the buttocks cheeks," she said into the recorder, "Theory is that he is," she paused as she shook her head in sympathy for the victims, "The leading theory is that he is eating them."

"Salome Ashwood," a distinct European voice announced from above her, ripping her out of her dark mindset.

"Hmm," she asked absently as she looked up quickly only to double take to see a tall man with cheek bones that one may break their hand upon if they made the mistake of taking a violent swing at him, "Yes," she smiled up at him, "That's me."

"Please," Hannibal Lecter said as he watched her with careful eyes as she hurriedly placed the violent photos back into her cheap bag. His sharp eyes took in the small details of the photos quickly in the brief moment that he had to see them.

"Sorry, work, you know how it is. Never a moment away from it," she apologized in the most polite, yet exhausted manner as she stood up from her chair and walked toward him. He took in her bruised hyphema riddled eye and her wounded arm that she tried to hide as he waved her politely ahead of him and into his office. Her soft yet sweet perfume wafted toward him and he inhaled deeply.

"So Jack told you about me," Salome asked as she stood anxiously and out of place in her plain, drab clothes within the large, luxurious office, "About what happened?"

"He didn't need to," Hannibal announced with a soft smile as he looked her over. Just a day after her physical altercation with her drunken fiancée and she was standing proudly with her pistol placed snuggly against her very defined hips, hips that were wonderful for future child bearing, very roomy for a child to make a home between for a short time frame.

"Ahh," she stated with a slight nod of understanding and a smile, "You read the _Tattler_," she looked around his office, taking in the large book cases filled with books that she knew were above the average college reading list, "I have to say, Dr. Lecter, I wouldn't have taken you to be the type of person to read that garbage. Ms. Lounds is especially a tick."

Hannibal smiled as he walked toward his own desk to lean against it in an almost resigned, lazy manner that, to Salome, seemed almost uncharacteristic of the things that Jack Crawford had warned her about.

"I have had the discourtesy of meeting Ms. Lounds," Hannibal informed her as he looked her over. Her hand rested upon her gun holster, as if by habit formed over many years of work in law enforcement. Her dark hair was thrown into a pony tail and fastened upwards with a black clip. She wore a form fitting white button up shirt for easy movement and simple black slacks with black shoes made for the sudden criminal chase on foot. He had known by the way she dressed and how she carried herself that her life predominantly revolved around her work as a FBI agent.

"Please sit," he demanded softly, "Make yourself comfortable."

"Thank you Dr. Lecter," she answered with a polite smile as she did what she was told, "Though I must say I don't plan on staying for very long," she looked over to him with a slightly lifted brow, "Only long enough for you to conclude that I am of sound mind and can continue working on this pressing case."

She allowed a soft smile to cross her features, though with the sharp gaze that he was giving her she quickly removed it and scooted back in her chair. Her back stood straight as she sat in front of his piercing eyes. She felt a strange aura around him as she looked him over in his sharp blue three piece suit and dark matching eyes that seemed to reflect an almost maroon shade in the light that they were placed under.

"You want me to rubber stamp you," he asked, "Agent Ashwood, I don't think that's very ethical. Do you?"

She shook her head at him and absently allowed her hand to move invisible hairs behind her ear as she replied, "Dr. Lecter, my life is my work. I have my reasons on why I can't let what happened to me yesterday affect my work."

"About yesterday," Hannibal said as he moved dangerously close to her, he could feel her apprehensiveness as he placed his index finger under her chin and lifted her chin up so he could see her bloody eye, "Did the hospital tell you to go to your optometrist?"

"No," she answered obediently as she looked into his own eyes that were inspected her bloody and bruised eye as well as the other cuts along her white flesh; she could feel his thumb absently touching her unblemished skin, "They said that it should be fine in a few days."

"Speaking as a medical doctor," he replied as he removed his hand from her chin, "I think, just for this one time, that the ER doctor was right. How's your wrist?"

"It's fine," she replied as she instinctively touched her arm, being careful of the super sensitive skin around the wound and stitches, "I was lucky. He almost hit a vein. Just a little sore."

"And they gave you pain killers," he asked.

"Yes," she answered, "But I haven't taken any. I have to have a clear head in order to do my job," she chuckled, "Can't have a high detective on a murder crime scene so I just have to bite through the pain."

"No we wouldn't, Agent Ashwood," he agreed with a small smile, he paused momentarily before continuing, "I read in the papers of your psychopath. What have they dubbed him?"

"The Moon Wolf Killer," she answered in a simple, straightforward tone.

"Why do they call him that," he smiled, "If you allow me to indulge my curiosity?"

"He kills according to the moon, the full moon to be exact," she answered obediently, "Local cops said the scenes were so brutal that they looked like a werewolf had killed the children, and there you have it…The Moon Wolf Killer."

He smiled and nodded at her explanation, "And there you have it."

"So," she replied with a slightly worried gaze, "How are we going to do this? You ask me about my parents? Ask me if my father ever did anything inappropriate? Do I think about killing people?"

He shrugged his shoulders coolly with a smile and answered, "It's what you want it to be. To be truthful with you, I've already signed Jack Crawford's papers."

She dropped her jaw slightly at his words as a smile overtook her features, her pearly white teeth shown bright in the light above her.

"That wasn't very nice," she replied, "I would have just went on talking about my family when I didn't need to," she shook her head in embarrassment and admonished herself, "What am I saying?! Thank you, Dr. Lecter. Really, you don't know what that means to me."

"Why does it mean so much to you," he asked, seemingly looking passed her eyes and into her soul in order to probe out the secrets that she hid from the world, "I've followed your career through the _Tattler._ FBI and the CIA, very successful I would say. I think you could have any job you wanted. Why this job?"

"Ugh," she said as she looked away from him and into the corner of his office, she looked at the small library he had that stood above them on the second floor, "My sister."

"What about your sister," he asked.

"She's in high school," she answered then paused before adding, "and she lives with me."

"With you and your fiancée," Hannibal asked, his brows slightly furrowed, "What events lead to a high school student coming to live with her older sister?"

"Ex fiancée," she cleared quickly, "Hit me once and your life is essentially over. And no, he and I didn't live together. We were in the process of finding a home. Marnie was the one that called for an ambulance. She walked in just as the bullet went through him," Salome shrugged her shoulders, "Might as well tell you this now. Our mother died of a meth overdose when we were young; she just got tired of all the abuse from her husband. Dad became an alcoholic and is somewhere in Kentucky cooking up the very drug that killed his wife."

Salome moved from her place and walked carefully around his office. Her fingertips absently brushed the leather of the couches as she moved passed them. She smiled as she looked at his drawings.

"Did you do all these drawings, Doctor," she asked as she looked away from the beautifully framed drawings.

"Yes," he answered as he watched her carefully.

"That's Duomo seen from the Belvedere," he answered as he watched a soft smile over take her features. "Do you know Florence?"

"No," she answered, "My CIA excursions took me to the Middle East, behind closed doors in Russia, and the death hole that is Africa. Unfortunately I never had the chance to visit the beauty that is Europe recreationally."

"So you and your sister grew up accustomed to violence," he asked, changing the subject as he watched the agent look over his drawings and doctorate diplomas.

"Which is why I don't give another thought to shooting or killing someone if the situation calls for it," she answered casually, she looked away from his doctorate and back at him as she added, "I've taught myself not to care. It's the best way to deal with these sorts of things. That's something Will Graham couldn't understand and something Jack Crawford refuses to acknowledge in me."

"You know Will Graham," Hannibal asked curiously.

"Know him enough to not be a fan of his work," she informed him quickly.

"Why is that," he asked, "I have no doubt that you are aware that I am working with him. I'd love to hear from a seasoned co-worker."

"Will and I work in similarly the same way," she informed him with a cocky shrug of her shoulder, "Where he is able to see what the killer is doing, I can see what the victim sees and the hidden evidence that Will cannot."

"And what do you see when you look at the victims of the Wolf Moon Killer?"

"Absolute fear," she answered honestly as her dark eyes met with his, "It's hard to get passed that fear sometimes, especially with children involved. I suffer in a way that Will Graham does not."

"I think I can help you," Hannibal informed her, "I can help you navigate through this suffering."

She smiled at him knowingly and replied, "In exchange for what, Doctor? Are we going to play quid pro quo?"

Hannibal smiled at her observance and nodded, "In a manner of speaking. I tell you about your boy the child killer and you tell me about yourself," he walked toward her and stood close to her, their body's mere inches from touching as he looked down at her with an unsettling smile as his dark blue eyes reflected the maroon color, "I can help you catch him Agent Ashwood."

She looked up at him, her mind raddled with mixed feelings at his proposal. A soft smile threatened to come over her face, she opened her mouth to reply but her phone rang loudly, interrupting her before she could speak.

"Sorry," she whispered as she dug in her pocket for her cell phone, "I thought I had turned it on vibrate," she looked at the phone and shook her head as Hannibal moved away from her, "It's Jack."

He watched closely, taking in every move that she made as she placed the phone up to her ear.

"Ashwood," she answered, "Yeah Jack, I'm with him now."

Hannibal watched as she looked down to the floor and nodded her head. He could feel the change of her mood with whatever information Jack Crawford had relayed to her. Her body became more rigid and her shoulders fell ever so slightly.

"I don't think it's necessary for Graham to be…yes sir," she replied into her phone, "I'll be over there in fifteen minutes."

She hung up the phone and shrugged her shoulders and said, "There's been another murder. Jack wants you to be a consultant on my case. He wants you to come with me," she shook her head as she hurried to pick up her bag and walk toward the door, "You don't have to if you don't want to. God knows Jack thinks everyone is at his beck and call."

"I'll drive you," he informed her with a smile as he opened the door for her and walked behind her. He could feel the urgency that radiated through the seasoned agent as she hurried out of the building in front of him as if her very life depended on her next few actions.

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**Reviews are great.**


	3. Back to Square One

**Chapter 3: Back to Square One**

**This is a shorter chapter than the last. Forgive me. I am actually procrastinating right now. I should be preparing to write my 20 page essay on Voodoo in the American South, but instead I decided that fanfiction was more important.**

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"We're here," Salome announced as she watched uniformed officers moving back and forth between the quarantined crime scene and their cars. Flashes from expensive cameras littered the darkened sky and a strong storm billowed somewhere in the distance.

She looked over to Hannibal who was placing his car into gear. The trip had been pleasant enough; she wouldn't let her guard around him. She felt as if she should walk on her tiptoes as if he were a sleeping rabid dog just waiting for an opportunity to catch her at her weakness. They talked of simple things, mostly about Jack Crawford and Will Graham, each time the conversation slowly veered towards one or the other it was quickly shut down for a lighter conversation by her. They were two players in a game, each keeping their cards hidden from the other.

"Great," she said under her breath as a woman with vibrant curly locks of red moved toward the good doctor's car.

"Salome, Salome," Freddie Lounds announced as she rushed towards the aggravated female FBI agent, her heels clicked against the rocky pavement, "How'd you squirm your way back onto this chase after shooting your own boyfriend? What'd you give Crawford to not be taken to jail?"

Hannibal watched as the rude reporter reached out and gripped tightly onto Salome's elbow. He could see her long claw-like nails that were painted a deep blood red digging dip into Salome's skin.

"Back off Lounds," Salome said quickly, turning around on her feet on a dime. Her dark blue eyes bore into the red head's own eyes as she jerked her arm out of Freddie's vice like grip.

"What are you going to do," Freddie asked, her eyes darted from Salome to Hannibal and back to Salome as she waited for the detective to reply, "He's struck again, hasn't he? Another kid? A little boy?"

"Get out of here Freddie," Salome announced coolly as she turned away from the reporter as a local officer walked passed her with an annoyed face painted upon his rugged features from a life time of law enforcement work.

"It never gets old, does it," the officer asked as he walked by Salome, "I'll get rid of her for you."

"Thank you," she answered as she continued forward over the rocky ground toward the crime scene.

Freddie looked over towards Hannibal Lecter just as the uniformed officer was walking towards her to push her back behind the police lines.

"How are you going to help this one Doctor," she asked as she was pushed away from him, leaving him with a knowing smile as he moved in the same direction that Salome had walked in. He took careful steps, his steps matching the same ones that the young agent had left behind.

As he caught up with Salome, he watched as she slipped on blue gloves to keep the crime scene uncontaminated. He watched her perform her job in interest. He could see her eyes searching for unseen evidence in the same way that Will Graham eyed scenes.

"Here," he heard her say as she handed him two gloves, "If Jack wants you at my crime scene then you do as I say."

Hannibal smiled as he took the gloves from her and pulled them on, "Anything you say Agent Ashwood."

He watched her move, almost cat-like, through the dark corridor that lead into the den of the murderer's latest victim where Will Graham stood with eyes closed, empathizing with the murderer, seeing what he had seen.

"He waited here after waiting patiently for so long for his victim to wander off. He chose this place just for his new victim," Will stated to no one in particular as Salome walked passed him. Hannibal watched her shake her head in aggravation as she moved around the room, taking in every detail of the room.

Salome looked down at the head that had been left for them to find. Dead brown eyes looked up at her as she knelt down in front of the severed head.

"Do we have a body yet," she asked as she looked over to Jack who was watching his two agents that possessed curious gifts.

"Not yet," Jack answered.

"His name is Jason Nunn," Jack informed his two agents as he pointed towards the severed head, "His stepfather reported him missing a month ago."

"Do we know who is missing now," Salome asked as she stood from her crouching position and walked towards a corner of the room and looked closely at the wall. Something was off about what she was looking at but she couldn't quite place why.

"A little girl," Jack informed her softly, his eyes solemn, "Her name is Sarah Long."

"A girl," Salome asked quickly in an astonished tone as she turned to look at her boss. She shook her head as confusion set in her eyes.

"He's changing his patterns," Will stated as he moved deeper into the dark room, "Why would you do that? What is your design?"

"This isn't about the murderer," Salome said as she walked out of the darkness and back into the light, "It's about the victims."

Hannibal watched as the female agent walked by him, he watched her blue eyes searching for unseen answers, looking for jumps in almost the same manner that Will Graham was doing previously.

"She was walking down this road," Salome announced as she walked into the open doors where cameras took in her appearance as she studied the white rocky pavement, "Why was she doing that? Where were her friends? Five year olds don't wander around alone without a parent or friends."

Hannibal watched her closely, taking in how her mind was quickly making connections that he could not see. He was never one to take in the victim's side of the story. To see how her mind worked compared to Will's was refreshing, it could give his mind something to taste.

He watched her placement of her feet as she moved about gracefully, almost as if she were in a ballet that she had constructed in her head. Her feet moving in intricate patterns that only she knew, a secret ballet.

"Here she was," Salome announced aloud to the good doctor that stood beside her, "She was walking right here," she hopped slightly as she took careful care to not step in the lost girl's forgotten footsteps, "She's-"

"What is it," Hannibal asked as he watched her stop then kneel down quickly to look closer at the forgotten steps. He kneeled down beside her and watched as her blue eyes examined the prints.

"There's an excessive weight on her right foot," she informed him, her eyes met his as a quick flame of excitement burned within her eyes but was quickly hidden to bring back the aura of seriousness of the situation, "She was holding something, a backpack maybe. You see those tracks," she pointed to small disturbances within the dusty rock pavement, "she was dragging a toy behind."

"We found a little toy in the bushes," an officer informed her as he stood above her, "Agent Crawford says he wants you back inside."

"Tell him I'm busy," she replied back, her tone was slightly bitter as she glared up at the man interrupting her work.

He watched as she looked over to the abandoned factory and stood quickly as the officer walked away with an annoyed shake of her head. She pointed to the ground and pretended to drag a toy behind her.

"She was playing alone with her toy," she whispered," Why alone?"

"Maybe her family life wasn't pleasant," Hannibal offered as he watched her shake her head, her loose bun shaking as she did so.

"No, her home life was fine," she informed him, "This was a happy girl," she continued walking, dancing over the footsteps. Hannibal smiled at her excellent foot work as if she belonged on stage performing an exquisite ballet routine. He could tell that she had beautiful feet hidden under her cheap black shoes.

"She stopped right here," she whispered and then looked over to the factory, "Something caught her attention. A noise of some kind. Something that would catch a young child," she shook her head as a triumphant smile came over her features, "I knew it!"

He watched as the woman moved in a quickened pace back towards the darkness of the murder scene.

"I saw something in there," she informed him as she waited for him to catch up, "I've had this theory all along that he uses something to catch their attention.

"He waits for them to enter into his web," Will stated as they walked back into the dark room, "But what brings them inside? He," he moved into the corner as he imagined himself in the killer's shoes, "he hides in the darker shadows, he lays in wait like a spider waiting for the fly. He-"

"They're children William," Salome answered darkly, "not flies!"

Hannibal's brow rose ever so slightly as he watched Will look over at Salome with slight indignation at her abrupt interruption.

"He used something to bring her in here," she informed the room as she looked at the wall carefully. A smile came over her face as she moved to the corner and smiled as she moved forward, "Here! He left tape behind. I need an evidence bag."

She held it up by the light of a flashlight from Jack and smiled in triumph, "There's a fingerprint here," her blue eyes sparkled in excitement as she looked over to Jack and shook her head in achievement, "Jack, we have the son of a bitch now! We can catch him! We don't have semen sample, but we should have prints."

"He's not in the system," Will informed her harshly, bursting her bubble of excitement.

"What?"

"He won't be in the system," he said once again, "He is playing this smart. He doesn't want to get caught. His design is to cast fear into his victim's relatives. That's what he lives for. He feeds off of it."

"Great," Salome whispered as she shook her head as her proud shoulders fell ever so slightly, "Back to square one."

"Agent Crawford," an officer announced, "We have someone here that thinks he saw something."

"Something isn't right," Salome whispered to herself as she backed away from the scene and took in every detail that was laid out in front of her, "She saw something else. I know it."

"You can feel it," Hannibal found himself asking as he watched her blue eyes move over every small crevice and hole.

"I don't know," she whispered absently with a shake of her head, "I don't know what it is anymore."

He watched as she walked away from the scene, leaving he and Will Graham alone. He turned to his patient with a slight turn of his head, for he never was one to face someone straight on. He wanted to give the appearance of a bird of prey studying its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

"That woman," Will said with a shake of his head, "is infuriating. I don't know how Jack thinks I can work with her again."

Hannibal felt a smile tug at his lips but he wouldn't allow it to take hold as he replied, "She seems to be a dynamic woman."

Will shook his head and replied in suppressed anger, "The woman is infuriating."

* * *

**So Salome and Will don't really have a very good relationship right now. **


	4. Dance of the Seven Veils

**Chapter 4: Dance of the Seven Veils**

"The woman is infuriating," Will Graham stated once again, as if in some way to convince Dr. Hannibal Lecter to believe his words. Salome Ashwood angered him like no other woman he had ever met. She rivaled Jack Crawford on the annoyance scale.

"You have strong feelings for this woman," Hannibal replied as he stood coolly in front of his desk. The vibrant red painted wall from behind formed a dangerous scene that could rival that of any account of Hell. He looked up to Will who once again stood above him on the library balcony, pacing back and forth in a nervous manner.

"I mean," Will said with a shake of his head as he paced back and forth, back and forth, "the woman thinks that I can't help save someone's life."

"Surely she doesn't think all of that," Hannibal reasoned, "It was you that saved Abigail Hobbs and others before Jack sought me out."

"Yeah, but you were there too," Will reminded him, "Sal is just, I don't even know how to describe her. She's like a parasite. She doesn't give a damn about anyone or anything. I should know I was partners with her on the force."

"And by the looks of it," Hannibal replied, "Old Jack wants you and her back in the saddle again. What's it like when she is walking in the victim's footsteps?"

"Infuriating," he said simply.

"Then her given name lives up to its reputation," Hannibal informed him with a small smile that begged desperately to paint his face.

Will looked up at the good doctor with a confused, questioning look in his eyes, "I don't understand."

"Salome," Hannibal began to explain, "was the daughter of Herodias. She was known to be lighthearted, possessing of a cold foolishness," he smiled as he recalled the Biblical character, "and murderous," he looked over to Will Graham and allowed the smile to come over his features, "She demanded John the Baptist's head on a silver platter."

Will shook his head in slight amusement, "Sounds like Sal to me."

"Could it be that you are jealous of her jumps," Hannibal suggested, "One would say that walking in the shoes of a kidnap or murder victim would be relatively easier than walking in the shoes of a murderer."

"I'm not jealous," Will clarified, "And Sal," he stopped and shook his head, "She does have nightmares, it just doesn't," he paused to search for the perfect word to describe the woman that succeeded in infuriating him, "affect her like it does me."

"And how do you know it doesn't affect her in the same manner as your empathy for serial killers? What makes you and her so different?"

Will shook his head at the good doctor as he thought about the question and then replied solemnly, "She doesn't care about anything."

"And you do," Hannibal stated in a matter of fact tone, "I've seen you. How many nights did you stay with Abigail Hobbs? It isn't a fault to care about people."

"No," he shook his head, "I was her partner for a long time. Crawford wanted us together. She picked up where I failed. We were a team…that's what Crawford wants us for. I was her partner for a long time and I saw things that she did," he shook his head, "things that weren't…" he paused and attempted to wipe the invisible stress from his face off of him, "I saw her doing things that weren't normal."

"Things," Hannibal asked, his curiosity peeked, "What kind of things?"

"She'd withdraw into herself," Will answered in a hushed tone, "She'd murmur to herself. Sometimes," he cleared his throat, "Sometimes she'd have these awful panic attacks and she'd never tell me why or what brought them on."

"Panic attacks?"

"Yeah," he confirmed with his eyes to the floor as he was thinking back, "She'd start breathing deeply and just shut herself off from the world. Nobody could go around her."

"And this affected your work or were you just the concerned neighbor that hears the screams but never calls the police," Hannibal asked as he looked up to the strained special agent that climbed down the ladder.

"No," Will answered, "I'd help her through it. Sometimes I was the only one she'd allow near her, " he shook his head, "That's why she left the FBI. She said that she was too tired of dancing over the victim's ghost prints."

"You two would have made quite the team," Hannibal informed, "with the right training. Jack would have his golden ticket if that were to happen. It's remarkable really. Two detectives that have great empathy. One for the predator and one for the prey. Nothing short of luck for Jack that he found you both. You and Agent Ashwood can still make a remarkable team with that right training."

Will felt a smile tug at his lips, "Are you suggesting couples therapy now, Doctor?"

Hannibal smirked with an almost mischievous glint in his eyes, "In a manner of speaking. Personally, I thought it was quite a show the way you two interacted at the abandoned factory. I think with the right encouragement, you and Agent Ashwood could make a remarkable team. Now," Hannibal walked towards the door and opened it, "if you could excuse me, I hate to cut this short Will, but I have to see a patient that has been admitted to the hospital recently."

Jack Crawford drove twenty miles over the speed limit with Salome Ashwood accompanying him in the passenger seat. Tall trees blurred by them as she looked out the window. Rain drops fell slowly down the window from the quick shower that had occurred a short time ago. Fall was settling in for a good stay, the leaves were just now turning into beautiful shades of reds and yellows before the inevitable brown would take over and cause the leaves to flutter to the earth below where they would eventually decay into the earth.

"Who needed to talk with you yesterday," Salome asked as she turned from the window and looked towards Jack with curious eyes, "at the factory?"

"Some nut case," Jack answered, "Told an officer that he had seen something."

"Did he?"

"Here's his card," Jack said as he dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out a rumpled white card, "I can't believe I kept it."

She rolled her eyes as she turned the white card over to see the words 'SEBASTIAN MARTIN: PSYCHIC. APPOINTMENTS BY PHONE. NO WALK-INS.'

"A psychic," Salome askeed with a slight chuckle, "That's just what we need. More idiots coming out of the wood work."

"He said he saw her," Jack informed her as he turned onto the graveled intersection where the young girl.

"In a vision?"

"And in real life apparently," Jack answered, "Said he saw the man a few weeks ago. He couldn't remember what he looked like."

"Well there goes the bologna of being psychic," Salome retorted as they pulled into the wood chip and gravel mixed drive way. Local police officers were standing as guards in front of the house to keep the media away.

"Did anyone question him?"

"I had someone question him," Jack answered, "I listened in on the interview. We decided to let him go. There was nothing substantial about his statement."

"Hmm," she said in a muffled voice as they car came to a stop.

Jack pulled himself out of the car and looked down to her as he asked, "What are you thinking Sally?"

"I can't figure out why he is changing his patterns Jack," Salome informed him as she pulled herself out of his car and looked up to the two story house that loomed in front of her. Light blue, almost grey paint looked back at her as she looked up at the house. Two windows on the second floor were covered over in tin foil to keep the evening and early morning sun from precious eyes.

"What with choosing a girl," he asked as they both walked up to the door and knocked.

"It just seems different," she whispered in an attempt to keep others in the dark of their conversation, "And where's the backpack that she was wearing? Something just doesn't ring right."

"Maybe you should talk to Will," Jack offered, "You two could put your heads together. Dr. Lecter seems to think that he could help. In fact, he suggested that it would be in best interest for the both of you."

Salome smirked as she replied, "What, like couple's therapy?"

The door opened just as Jack was about to reply. A woman with tinted bottle blonde hair looked back at them with wrinkling, tired skin and a long bird like nose. Her eyes were rimmed and slightly bloodshot from a long night of worrying for the missing child.

"Mrs. Julie Long," Salome announced as she held her badge out in front of her and then placed it back into her jacket pocket, "I'm Agent Salome Ashwood of the FBI, may we come in?"

"No," the woman said, "I'm Julie's sister, Laura. But come in. She's in Sarah's bedroom. She's been worried sick all day. We overheard a conversation from one of those men that they think Sarah was taken by the Wolf Moon Killer," tears threatened to fall from the woman's tired eyes as she looked at the two, "That isn't true is it?"

"We don't know mam," Salome lied carefully, "But we are working hard trying to find her."

"Come in," Laura said as she allowed the two to come into the house and led them up the stairs towards the bedroom, "I'll take you up to Sarah's bedroom. Julie hasn't touched anything really. She's just been sitting there, watching the bed. I think she expects for her daughter to appear. Poor thing."

"Is someone in there with her," Jack asked as the edged towards the door. A distinct male voice could be overheard from behind the white wooden door with a painted pink flower stamped in the middle.

"Well, she insisted that," Laura started to say but Jack interrupted her by quickly opening the door with annoyance painted upon his face. Salome hurried in behind him to see a surprised man looking at them; an almost weasel-like smile crossed his face as he took them in. His facial reaction reminded her of Freddie Lounds. He had well tamed brown hair and bright green eyes, his eyes widened slightly as Jack moved toward him. Sarah's mother, a natural blonde with pale skin and red rimmed eyes, moved to stop Jack from shoving him into the wall. Salome pulled the mother away from her boss and calmed her down.

"Let go of me," Julie demanded and pulled away from Salome and hurried to the man's side.

"What is he doing here," Jack asked in agitation, his voice was deep as he glared at the skinny man and then to Julie.

"A reading," Sebastian Martin informed him as the young girl's mother placed a protective hand against his shoulder.

"I asked him to come here," Julie defended him, "He sees her," a glitter of hope flickered in her eyes, "He says that she's alive."

"Out," Jack demanded and pointed towards the door as he jerked him away from the wall, "Before I have you behind bars for obstructing justice and interfering in an official investigation."

"I could sue you for police brutality," Sebastian informed Jack and looked him in the eyes.

Salome moved quickly between the two men and placed her hand upon the cuffs on her belt, "And I can arrest you right now for contaminating a potential crime scene."

"What," the mother asked in a worried tone.

Salome closed her eyes, regret filled her body as she registered what her words meant to the mother of the missing child.

"You're her," Sebastian asked as he pointed towards Salome, his eyes brightened, "I read about you in the newspaper. About…about how you stopped that terror plot in the Middle East."

"Then you know that I was also CIA," she whispered as she edged closer to the man, "and their tactics in dealing with snot nosed punks is a lot different than the FBI's."

"I don't want him to go," Julie demanded as Jack began to push him out of the room.

"Mrs. Long, he's just trying to use you," Salome informed her calmly as she softly pushed the woman back as Crawford exited the room with the psychic in tow, "He just wants publicity. He's just using you."

"But he said-"

"Yes and he's said it to thousands of other worried mothers," she informed him, almost bitterly.

"He said she was alive."

"And she still is," Salome informed her softly as she helped the woman sit on the bed. Her blue eyes quickly moved about the room, taking in every detail. Pink and white walls looked back at her. Ballet slippers hung on the door knob of her closet were dresses of pink hung up and jeans laid forgotten on the floor.

"Where's my daughter," Julie cried as she watched the woman look around the room in a focused state. She watched as the agent's blue eyes moved over the room carefully, taking in every tiny detail, even the spider rolling up the fly in the corner of the ceiling.

"We're looking for her," Salome answered absently, void of emotion, "Where's Sarah's backpack?"

Julie looked around the room as she wiped tears from her cheeks, "Uhm," she looked around frantically, "It's not here. She must have had it on her when…"

"Why would he take the backpack too," Salome asked as she continued to look at the pink room, confusion cluttered her mind. She regarded the white wall closest to the foiled window that looked over the driveway and into the small patch of woods across the street. The wall was littered with a child's drawings. Trees, most likely from her view across the way, cluttered the wall.

"Are these your daughter's drawings," Salome asked the mother as she turned to look at her and kneeled down to get a better look at the drawings.

"Mostly," Julie answered, "Sometimes her friend would come over and draw. She only had one friend, Britney Nobles from down the road. I have their number if you need it."

"No that won't be necessary," Salome informed her as she rose from her crouching position near the wall; she kept her concentration on the drawings of the trees that looked at her.

"Did your daughter have nightmares? Complain of hearing anything at night?"

"No," Julie answered, "But-"

"What?"

"She complained about a vampire. She said he'd hide in her closest and stare at her," Julie informed her as fresh tears poured down her red and puffy cheeks, "She'd run to me in tears. When I'd bring her back into her room there was nothing…oh my God! Was he in the house?!"

Salome ignored the woman's sobs as she continued to examine the trees on the wall for any sort of clue or jump that she could make. Nothing came to her as she looked it over.

"Sally," the hurried voice of Jack announced, breaking her concentration from the walls, "The backpack was found in the dumpster down the road."

Salome hurried out of the bedroom; the crying mother was following her with wails of anguish leaving her small body. She moved passed Sebastian Martin, who had yet to leave the Long property, and towards the uniformed officer that held the pink backpack up for her to see.

"Is that blood," Julie asked in horror as a small splash of dried blood stood out against the pink on one of the straps.

"Step back Mrs. Long," an officer said softly as he slowly pulled her back.

The uniformed officer quickly unzipped the child's backpack only to see a doll and a piece of paper inside. Salome's name was written in chicken scratch cursive on the back of the paper, it was folded horizontally and wrinkled up.

"Let me see it," she demanded.

The officer looked her over carefully and then down at the note, reading it against her will. He handed the letter over to Jack, who quickly opened it up. A small bubble of anger boiled inside of her at the action the officer had just displayed.

"Dear Agent Ashwood," Jack read aloud to her as Sebastian snuck in behind them to overhear, "I've followed you religiously in the papers. I find you quite interesting. It made my dick hard thinking about you looking over pictures of dead children. I must say, Sally, may I call you Sally? I must say that I am rather disappointed. I left something for you that I thought you would enjoy. I'd love to see you dance, Sally. How about an erotic dance? We could have our own Dance of the Seven Veils, if you'd like. I think I'd quite enjoy it. True you are rather plain, but your gift sets you apart. I hope that it will be you that catches me. It would be interesting to have you pin me against the wall and cuff my hands behind my back rendering me utterly helpless. I must be going now. Little Sarah dressed in pink is screaming for her mommy now. And just for you, I am considering lengthening this girl's life. It all depends on how you dance for me. Tell me Sally, would you send me to an asylum or would you ask for my head on a silver platter? Until next time, Teddy Bear."

"Shit," Salome hissed under her breath as she turned to look at the house just as the sun started to go down over the trees.

Sebastian walked up to her and looked into her blue eyes with his bright green ones and gave her a large smile. He watched as confusion and distrust pulled across her face. Her right brow perked upwards slightly as she took him in.

"You're going to find her," he reassured her, "She's alive. I can see it."

...

Night had fallen in the small house that belonged to Salome. The TV played an old episode of Law and Order on the television that had been long forgotten. Salome lay asleep on the cream colored couch. Her head was propped up on the armrest and a copy of the letter, the original had been sent back to Forensics, and photographs from the new crime scene sat upon her chest and stomach forming a blanket of murder documents to keep her warm from the isolating fan in the corner.

Rain fell hard outside as Marnie walked in from her date with her longtime boyfriend. Her hair was a lighter shade than her sister's, mostly from her early teenage life of bleaching her hair blonde with vibrant wild colors. She was smaller than her sister in frame, but she could fight right along with her sister from years of being on the karate team at her school as well as taking boxing lessons at the local gym.

Marnie had lived with Salome for the last three years. The two had always been close throughout their life. It was the two of them through it all. They only had each other after they were taken from their home in Kentucky and taken to live with their relatives in Texas. Their relatives took in foster children as well, so their whole lives they had become accustomed to seeing children that were in much more dire situations than they had ever been in.

They had each other always and when Salome left under Crawford's wing it had been particularly hard for her to adjust to. She had started failing in school. She begged her relatives to let her move in with Salome, but they had refused. That's what had caused her to withdraw from her school by using a good friend's mother as an impersonator and drive up to Quantico. Her sister, of course, took her in and put her back into school. They had made a life living together. Everything had seemed to turn around until she started to see just how the work affected Salome. She watched as Salome stayed up nights on end just to study a crime scene, she could hear Salome talking to herself long into the night, and she watched every relationship that Salome tried to have dissolved. Something was wrong with her older sister.

To say that she hadn't expected a big blow up between Rick and Salome would have been a lie. She knew it was coming, it would be just a matter of when and who would scream obscenities first. Though she had never dreamed that Rick had started using the same drugs that had taken their mother and father away. Salome had been so involved in her work that she hadn't seen the signs of her own boyfriend using illegal drugs, her sister had been blind to everything that didn't revolve around work.

Marnie shook her head as she looked down at her older sister laying on the couch. She walked slowly up to her and took the photographs and the letters off of her chest without looking at the disturbing and graphic material. She placed them on the coffee table and grabbed a small blanket that lay forgotten on the smaller couch in the corner.

"Sweet dreams Sal," Marnie whispered to her sister as she placed the blanket over Salome's body. She turned to look down at the letter and a small white paper fell from underneath it that she had missed. She quickly looked up at it and read the name of the doctor that the card belonged to. The name 'Hannibal Lecter' looked back at her along with a clean bill of mental health and his elegant signature at the bottom.

"Dr. Lecter," she whispered as she looked down at her sleeping sister and then softly, being careful not to wake her sister, walked out of the living room.

"It's about time she sought some help."

* * *

**I hope all of you that are reading are enjoying. **

**So we get a little insight to the bad guy. What do you think?**

**And Hannibal, hmm he just kind of walked out on Will huh?**

**Review and tell me what you think. I love reviews. **


	5. The Devil's Eyes

**Chapter 5: The Devil's Eyes**

"What," Salome announced, her words echoing loudly against the walls of Crawford's office, "Do you want me fixing god damn boat motors in Florida?!"

"No," Jack Crawford argued back as he watched the female agent turning her back away from him as he stood in front of his desk, she was clearly tiring of this argument, "You were at that factory for ten hours alone. You haven't found any new evidence. It's not there, Sally."

"It's there," she informed him as she turned around on her heels and glared at him, "I know it is. I just," she stopped and ran her hand through her fallen bangs, an old habit that she only used when she was stressed and out of answers, "I just haven't found it yet."

"You've missed your appointments with Dr. Lecter," Jack informed her as he walked up toward her. He watched as she closed her eyes and shook her head in what reminded him of defeat, "I can't have you shutting down on me again. Not this time."

"I'm not," she informed him harshly as she turned to look back at him, her eyes glistened. "I know what I'm doing."

"You need some help Salome," he informed her with a hard yet sympathetic tone, "We all need it once in a while. There's no shame in it. Let Lecter help you. He can provide insight that maybe you haven't picked up on."

"It's not going to my head like the last time," she assured.

"Look I lost you last time-"

"It was Will's fault," she stated harshly, her tone filled with malice from years ago, "If he-"

"If you hadn't have shut down like you did," Jack proclaimed and pointed at her, "We would have got to the girl quicker. They are not your sister, Salome," he watched as she looked to the floor, "You can't keep breaking down every time you think of your sister out in the world. You just can't."

She jerked her head up and her eyes lurched onto Jack's own eyes, disbelief filled her at what words had just escaped his mouth. Words said in anger were words that could be trusted.

"Is that what this is about," she asked as she closed in on him, anger and resentment coursing through her veins, "Marnie," she shook her head, "This isn't about my-"

"Stop," he warned, his eyes darkened in anger which warned her to stand down and listen, "It's always been about her. You make it personal and you just can't do that, Salome. You couldn't stay in foreign countries so you came back here. Some people are questioning your capability with this case, especially with the victim being a little girl, not to mention the sexualized note."

Salome looked up at him, her eyes glistened with the hurt that was bubbling inside of her chest, "What people are questioning me? Is it Katz? Dr. Bloom? Will?"

"Go see Dr. Lecter," he demanded, ignoring her question, "That's an order, Salome."

Salome shook her head as she turned away from him. She grabbed her black coat and quickly placed it over her shoulders.

"Are you going now," he asked as he watched her walk towards the door. He watched as she turned around ever so slightly to look back to him. Her shoulders had fallen in defeat.

"If that's what you want me to do, then that is what I'm going to do, Jack."

"Good."

"I'm sure Dr. Lecter would just adore a walk-in," she muttered in defeat.

"He knows you're coming. I told him I would have you in there today, even if it would take every officer in Baltimore, I would have you there," Jack informed her, a smile tugged at his lips. He watched as her pony tail swayed back and forth as she shook her head in contained anger.

"I want you and Will to go back to the scene tomorrow," Jack informed her, a smile coming over his smile, "Will is making an effort here to work with you between other cases. I think it would behoove you to make an effort as well, Sally."

"Fine," she said simply as she opened the door and walked out of his office to face the frigid Baltimore air once again.

...

_Brown paneled walls looked back at Salome as she sat on the old beat up couch of the Langella home. The home was tattered and old, but family pictures filled the home with an almost tangible love. It was her first case since returning back to the FBI after her stint with the CIA. The new Tattler article appeared as a pop up on the laptop on the counter. Her picture was pasted upon the page with the headline "__**THE DEVIL'S EYES BACK ON THE CASE"**__ in dark ink glared back at her. One child had been found in Maryland. The boy's head had been found at the scene of the kidnapping here in West Virginia. _

"_Tell me where was the last place you saw Jeremy," Salome asked as she looked over to the mother and father. Clara and Frank Langella sat across from her. Clara Langella had washed out fair hair with soft touches of grey beside her ears. Her eyes were rimmed red from being up all night with grief and worry. Frank Langella was older than his wife by a few years. Salt and pepper hair was dutifully cut by his younger wife. He held a strong composure in hopes of keeping his and his wife's hopes up in finding their son alive. He had to be the calm, collective one for his wife. He had to be the pillar of strength for the worried family._

"_He was out playing with some friends," Frank answered._

"_Aren't you supposed to know these things already," Clara asked, almost defensively. _

_Salome cleared her throat and straightened her back at her defensive, yet grief stricken tone. She had become used to it years ago, but being away from this element for a while had brought down her defenses._

"_Yes," she paused before adding in a hardened tone, "But I also have to follow guidelines. I don't know all there is to know. I am only human."_

"_Do you think he is safe," Clara asked as tears fell from her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. Her defenses had faltered._

_Salome closed her eyes and shook her head. She hated questions like these. She didn't want to tell them what she thought or what she knew. She would have to tell them eventually, but she didn't want to tell them like this. False hope could be worse than the actual truth in some cases._

"_It's that Wolf Man isn't it," Clara asked, "Is that who got our Jeremy?"_

_Frank wrapped his arms around his wife in order to comfort her. He rubbed her upper arm softly and shushed her sobs away._

"_He's all we got left," Frank informed her softly, "His sister died from a hit and run five years ago."_

_Salome felt a tug at her heart but beat it down. She had a job to do. She couldn't let her feelings get involved in front of the parents of the lost child._

"_There is evidence that your son was taken by the Wolf Moon Killer, yes," she confided with a heavy heart. The mother of the lost child cried loudly in anguish._

"_I read about you," Frank informed her as he held his wife, "They think you helped those terrorists. The Tattler says-"_

"_What Freddie Lounds writes about me are vicious lies," Salome informed him in a matter of fact tone, all the while losing her cool on the inside at the mention of the nosy reporter that had attempted to soil her good name._

_Frank glared at her momentarily for her emotionless words that matched her emotionless eyes. Male officers exited the child's bedroom where Salome had previously inhabited; they interrupted the silent exchange of harsh looks._

"_Since when did Jack Crawford start sendin' women to do his job," the sheriff asked as he walked up to Salome. _

_Salome burned on the inside at the man's words and replied in a collected tone, "This is my job, Sheriff…"_

"_Grimes," he responded, "Sheriff Grimes," he turned to the parents of the lost child and tipped his brown velvet cowboy hat to them, "We'll find him for you. We won't sleep until we do, mam."_

_The sheriff placed his hand around Salome's elbow and moved her forward. She quickly jerked her elbow out of his defiantly, she glared at him before she continued out of the house and into the chilly, wet air._

"_This ain't your jurisdiction mam. This is just a kidnapping," the sheriff informed her. "Now Jack Crawford said that he-"_

"_Would be sending me if he believes that there may be a body showing up," she finished as she stood in front of him, her shoulders squared as she stood in front of the tall, good ol' country boy in a cowboy hat, "This is my jurisdiction. There has been one kid kidnapped and murdered already. This case has the same markings."_

"_So you just assume-"_

"_I'm a part of the FBI," she informed him, ready to recite Jack Crawford's mantra, "We do not assume. When you assume something you make an ass out of you and me. Now, I really don't want to have a pissing contest with you Sheriff. I want this to be civil, for the children and the parents," she eyed him dangerously, "but don't think that I won't go over your head and have your badge for stepping in the way of a federal investigation. This is a potential murder victim. We don't have time for these games."_

"_I don't take orders from a woman that mingles with Muslims," he informed her, "With a mouth like yours, you should be taking dictation instead of-"_

"_Sheriff Grimes," the heavy voice of Jack Crawford announced from behind them. _

_Salome and the sheriff turned in unison to see Jack Crawford walking with a quick pace in his steps. Salome knew that he had overheard their whole confrontation. He had always been aware of the sexism that still existed in small sects, but had never done anything about it. It wasn't the first time that she had encountered such blatant sexism, she had seen it in the CIA as well, and it would certainly not be the last. _

"_Agent Crawford," the sheriff announced as he backed away from Salome._

"_What's going on here," Jack asked as he looked from the sheriff down to his agent._

"_Our dear sheriff here thinks that this is his jurisdiction seeing as there isn't a body to be found," Salome answered, "He also thinks that I-"_

"_I think you and I should talk," Jack offered as he interrupted his agent and looked directly into the sheriff's young face, "Some of the facts that," he paused as he looked over to the house, "that haven't been made public are of a sexual matter and I think you and I should discuss it," his eyes made a quick movement towards Salome, "Let's let soft ears not overhear."_

_Salome bit at the inside of her lip at Jack's words. That was his suggestion for everything. They looked up to him, being as he was the Agent in Charge of the Behavioral Science Unit of the FBI. It would have been a great lie to say that the men and women of any type of law enforcement did not look up to him or respect him. He was a man that was given respect almost immediately. He had started off as a sniper and then later a hostage negotiator; he was the one that had started the FBI's Criminal Profiling Program. He was a man to be reckoned with. She only wished that she could be half the agent that he had been when he was coming up through the ranks._

'_The Devil's Eyes' and 'The Angry Temptress', those were the nicknames that the Tattler had given her. Anger is what fueled her forward in her career. At home, she was different, but being a female FBI agent came with problems that she had thought had been eradicated years ago. She hated the nicknames and she hated being the tough cookie to everyone she met, but it was her job and her job was her life. She would have to accept it or her soul would be plagued with hopeless regrets._

_..._

"It doesn't even matter," Salome whispered as she looked down on Dr. Lecter as she placed her hands upon the banister of his loft that held his rather large collection of books. She was above him and she smiled as he looked up at her with his strange eyes, eyes that were constantly seeking to find hidden secrets within someone's mind. Her own eyes were just beginning to heal; the blood that covered her eye was receding and the purple bruising was slowly turning yellow.

"And why wouldn't it matter," he asked as he eyed her as he took in her posture. She seemed almost angelic standing above him in her same drab outfit that he had seen her in before, looking down on him as if he were a fallen angel and she was his sister angel coming down to judge him for his great sins. If Salome could only know the things that he had committed; he had thought of how she, Will, and Jack would react if he were to ever be caught. He wondered if Agent Salome Ashwood would shoot him down like she had done to her own fiancée.

"It's like," she said as she closed her eyes, trying to find the perfect word to describe her almost indescribable, she sighed and added, "I've tried so hard to get to where I am. Jack doesn't understand the fear that I feel when I go to these dark places. Will thinks he understands, but he doesn't," she stopped abruptly and looked down at the psychiatrist.

Hannibal watched as she walked towards the wooden ladder and slowly lowered herself down to his level, voluntarily the angel was coming down to Hell's level.

"Can I put my trust in you Dr. Lecter," she asked in a despondent tone.

He smiled at her and nodded as he replied, "That's what I'm here for. I'd like to be your friend, Salome. May I call you Salome," he watched as she nodded her answer, "I'd like to be your friend, if you'd let me."

"I try so hard," she whispered as she looked into his strange eyes, "For my sister. For those victims that can't speak."

"Giving breath to someone that can't speak at the moment must be very torturous," he informed her, "What do you see when you step into their shoes?"

She shook her head at his words, a look of misery came over her face, "I don't step in their shoes or their footsteps. It keeps me from becoming them; it keeps them out of my head when I don't want them there."

"It's your way of controlling your empathy," Hannibal informed her.

"It's the only thing that I have control over it seems," she confided as she moved away from him and sat cross legged on his couch in front of the bright red wall.

"You don't have control of your life?"

She scoffed and leaned her head back to look up to the high ceiling of his office. She looked over to him from the corner of her eyes.

"My life is like a Zero Gravity ride that just keeps spinning, never stopping," she stated with an intake of breath.

"Tell me about your sister," he demanded as he sat in the chair in front of her.

"Marnie," she informed him, "She's the only thing that I have in my life."

"I've been informed that you are protective of your sister," Hannibal said. He watched as she leaned forward and looked at him with a sideways smile painted upon her face.

"Did Jack say that," Salome asked, "Well," she shrugged her shoulders, "It's true. With the things that I look at, who wouldn't be overprotective of their little sister?"

"I understand exactly what you are saying," Hannibal informed her, "If I had been more protective of my own little sister, maybe she would still be here with me today."

Salome looked him over at his confession. A strange understanding passed through them as they sat in front of red walls. She did not push or prod him for more information. She simply allowed the conversation to move in whatever direction the good doctor wished to travel upon.

"Your ability to empathize with victims is so close to Will's that I think there may be a common thread between the two of you. I think you both have a common characteristic that hasn't been found."

She leaned forward and replied coldly, "I watched my father beat my mother when she spilled the milk. I kept my sister hidden from sight when he came home or when the knock came at the door. I lived in constant fear that the knock on the door would be something or someone that would try and hurt us. We were taken to Texas to live with my aunt and children that they fostered. I was twelve when I first saw a kid with cigarette burns on his back from where his mother burned him out of hatred," she glared at the doctor momentarily, "With all due respect Dr. Lecter, Will and I have nothing in common, but our abilities."

Hannibal watched as she stood from her place and walked out of his view. He watched her reflection from a hanging mirror as she walked around his office.

"Sometimes we have to peel back the layers of ourselves," he said as he turned to her slowly and stood with a straight back, he corrected his jacket as he walked towards his desk, "to discover why it does matter."

Salome stopped and turned to him with a look of complete understanding on her face, "What did you just say," her eyes brightened as she shook her head, "That's it!"

Salome looked up at him with a large smile and rushed to grab her jacket off of the hook. She struggled to pull her black jacket onto her as she hurried towards the door.

"You are a genius Dr. Lecter," she informed him.

"Where are you going," he asked as he watched her grabbing onto the door knob.

"The crime scene," she informed him hastily, "I know what he left behind."

"Salome," he announced, watching as her happy demeanor was slowly fading away by his tone, "You can't go off alone."

"I have a gun," she informed him, "I know how to use it."

"Still," he answered as he moved with smooth, quick agility towards her. He placed his coat over his jacket and opened the door for her, "I would feel responsibility if something were to happen to you. I'll ride along with you."

...

Salome jerked her 2009 Chevy Malibu into park as they came upon the old factory. Rocks hit upon each other under the weight of her car as she pulled herself out of her car. Adrenaline moved through her body as she closed her door and turned her flashlight on. Hannibal was following behind her as she hurried into the darkened factory in great excitement.

"I don't know how I didn't catch this before," she informed him as they ducked under a fallen beam and walked toward the wall where the boy's head had been found. The rancid smell of death filled their senses. It was a disgusting smell as if evil, death, pestilence, and sin were thrown together in a large vat and left to rot in closed quarters.

"What are you looking for," Hannibal asked as he watched Salome's eyes roam across the walls, like he had observed her doing on their first meeting.

She turned to him with a soft smile and handed him the flashlight, "Can you hold this for me, please?"

He held the flashlight up at the wall and watched as the young agent moved to the corner of the wall.

"He was watching the girl," Salome announced as she ran her hand along the corner of the wall, "She drew on the walls."

Hannibal watched as her fingernails dug at the white wall paper that stuck to the wall. He watched her rip into it and jerk with all her might as she pulled strips off. He moved the flash light with each movement that she made as she ripped the wall paper and discarded it onto the messy cement floor.

Salome backed away from the painted wall that looked back at her. Trees were painted in black paint all over the wall in an almost hurried yet steady stroke. She stood beside the good doctor as she took it all in. A small girl in red lay on the ground where a wolf looked over her as if protecting her instead of hunting her.

"I need Will," she whispered as she hurried to reach for her phone, but it rang before she pulled it from her pocket. The name Jack Crawford glared back at her in the darkness of the factory as she pulled her phone into her vision.

"Jack," she announced happily, "I got it. I found-"

Hannibal watched as Salome's face blanched with whatever news Jack Crawford had just delivered to her over the telephone. He watched with a curious gaze as her hands started to tremble in fear. He could smell it on her as she allowed the phone to fall from her ear. Hannibal could hear her mumbling slightly under her breath.

Salome found herself holding herself up against the wall, and then slowly sliding down it as her strength began to falter from the news she had received. Her eyes were filled with worry at whatever message Jack had relayed to her.

"Sally," Hannibal heard Jack's voice scream over the phone, "God damn it, Sally. Answer me!"

Hannibal walked toward her carefully as he listened to her labored breathing, a sign that she was going into a panic. She looked up at him, he could tell that she wanted to say something, but her labored breathes wouldn't allow her to speak. He pulled out his handkerchief and placed it upon the phone as he pulled it out of her hand.

"Salome is with me," Hannibal said into her phone. He listened to Jack explain the news that had caused her sudden moment of complete terror, he nodded and added as he looked over to the wall, "She has asked for Will to come look at what she has found at the abandoned factory."

He hung up the phone and looked down at his panicking patient. He kneeled down beside her and watched as she tried desperately to catch her breath as tears of worry filled her eyes and spilled over. The tears that had been held in for so long flowed freely down her face as she looked at her caring doctor who was looking at her with concerned eyes.

"Salome," he informed her with a demanding tone, "I'm going to need you to stand up and walk out of here. I'm taking you out of here, I'm going to take you home."

Salome's chest moved up and down as she nodded her acceptance of his demand. Hannibal helped her carefully up from the ground and escorted her out of the darkened factory, both unaware that someone had been watching them.

...

Sarah Long cried as she looked around her in the darkness that surrounded her. A metal chain bit into her small ankle and water from somewhere in the bowels of this Hell that she had found herself in soaked her clothes. A draft filled the air around her as she sat upon the cold cemented ground. She didn't know where she was. Her head hurt with a pain that she had never felt before. She had emptied the contents of her stomach when she had first woken up in this dungeon of darkness. She could hear the scurrying of rats coming from the corners and the thought of having one crawling on her sent shivers of fear down her small body.

"Momma," she cried as she looked around the darkness only to see monsters hiding within the dark corners. She curled herself up in the corner of the room and hid her eyes from the monsters that looked down at her.

What she didn't know was the monsters in the darkness meant her less harm than the man that had left her all alone in this darkness. He would be back soon and would cause her more harm than anything she could imagine. In church, they had talked about Satan, but now her young mind knew what it meant to be truly evil.

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**Reviews would be killer (no pun intended) :D**


	6. Savage Pleasure

**Chapter 6: Savage Pleasure**

**Chapter 7 may take awhile to be up. I have that big 20 page paper over Voodoo do in a few weeks so that's something that I need to put on my list of things to do before fanfiction sadly. **

**Also I am working on a video for this story, I'll let you all know when it is up :)**

* * *

Jack Crawford hurried up the porch steps. He could see the broken glass and blood splatter on the floor from a broken window as he banged on Salome's door. Panic rushed through him as he thought about what could be lurking behind the door. He had his gun ready as he allowed his other officers to bust ahead of him through the door, knocking it off its hinges. Splinters were exposed as Jack hurried into the agent's home.

"Marnie," he screamed, "This is Jack Crawford. Marnie, where are you?"

"Jack," a stifled voice announced from deep within the kitchen. The sound of something falling rang in his ears as he hurried into the white tiled kitchen. Freshly mopped tiles and baby blue walls made up the small homey kitchen as he entered inside the small room to see Salome's younger sister pulling herself out of her hiding spot inside the broom closet. A broom and a mop laid upon the ground as Marnie tripped slightly over them.

"Are you alright," Jack asked as he placed a hand on her elbow in a paternal manner. He looked her over to see that there were no outer signs of an attack, "Did he get in?"

"No," Marnie answered as she fixed her oversized brown jacket and pulled her arms over her chest as uniformed officers entered the home to investigate, "I think the alarm scared Rick off."

"What did he want," Jack asked.

Marnie shook her head at him in complete disbelief, "What do you think he wanted? He wanted my sister. How did he get out of the hospital?"

Jack looked away from the high school student and shook his head as he carefully replied, "The guard that was watching him was hit from behind."

"Where's my sister," she asked quickly, "Does she know about what has just happened?"

"Yes," Jack answered honestly with a nod of his head, "She's with-"

"Oh no," Marnie said with a paranoid worry in her voice as she hurried away from him, "I can't believe you told her. I have to go find her."

Jack watched as Marnie moved away from him with quick steps, her flats clacked against the floor as she grabbed her keys from the counter by the sink.

"She's okay," Jack announced as he turned to watch her move towards the door, "She's with Dr. Lecter."

"Dr. Lecter," she asked with worry still in her eyes as she tried to recall the name in her state of worry and stress.

"I asked your sister to go see him," Jack informed her, "He's a damn good psychiatrist. He'll take care of her. I promise you, nothing is going to happen to her."

Marnie shook her head as she remembered the card that she had picked up from the clutter of papers that her sister had from nights ago.

"Rick is out there," she whispered, more to herself than to anyone in the room. She looked up at Jack Crawford and her eyes darkened, "You take care of her Crawford. I want you to say it. Say that Salome will be under your protection."

Jack shook his head in agreement and replied, "There will be officers stationed outside-"

"That's not what I asked," Marnie interrupted him. Jack looked at her. He could see Salome's spirit and fire burning inside of her, more so it seemed within this young high school girl. He watched as she stood with her eyes locked on his. It wasn't every day that a teenage girl kept harsh eye contact with a man his age and station in life, but Marnie Ashwood kept it.

"I promise you Marnie," he said as he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder, "I won't let anything happen to your sister. She's under my protection."

...

Salome felt Hannibal's hand on her upper back as she forced herself forward. She could see her car as the sun was going down over the trees that surrounded the building. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to breath.

"We have to get to-"

"Salome," Hannibal said as he moved to open the car door for her, "I want you to sit down," he watched her as she moved by him and sat in the passenger seat like he had demanded of her, "Now, I want you to close your eyes," he smiled as she did as he said without a word of argument, "I want you to hold your breath just for a moment. Can you do that for me, Salome?"

She shook her head in agreement and held her breath until her chest became hard. She waited for his next command as she felt the panic that had initially filled her body slowly disappearing.

"I want you to convince yourself that there is no need to panic," he insisted, "Not in this moment at least."

She inhaled and felt her body calming as she thought of her sister safe and sound in the house, sitting on the couch with whatever boy she brought home this time to watch a re-run of The Walking Dead.

"Okay," she said as she allowed air to escape her. She felt her heart beat return to normal pace as she looked up at the good doctor, "I have these pills that I can take," she turned away from him and dug into her console, she pulled an orange prescription bottle out and opened it, "I usually carry them on me, but-"

Hannibal watched as she quickly swallowed a white pill without the use of water.

"They usually just make me fall asleep," she confessed with a shrug of her shoulders.

"May I see them," Hannibal asked with the utmost courtesy as he held his hand out and waited for the female agent to hand him the pill bottle willingly.

Salome handed them to him as she took another deep breath, her chest becoming loose as she continued the deep breaths and the happy thoughts. She watched as he read the label.

"Etizolam," he read aloud, his eyes fell upon the name of Alana Blood, and then looked down at her with an unreadable expression upon his face, "Salome," he said in a stern voice as he watched her closing her eyes, she looked back up at him, "I don't want you taking these anymore. Drugs pollute the blood. You don't need drugs for this."

She nodded as she placed her feet on the floorboard and allowed the good doctor to close the door. She watched as he dropped the bottle into his coat pocket then walked to the driver's side of her car. She looked over to him and then back to the factory.

"Will needs to look at this," she whispered to Hannibal, her eyes drooped slightly as the pill started to take its effect on her body.

"Will you tell him Dr. Lecter," she asked as she looked over to the good doctor who was placing her car into reverse.

"As soon as I can. First thing matter of importance is getting you home," Hannibal informed her as he kept his eyes on the road, "Jack is over there. He says that he is staying with her until I get you back there."

"You don't know where I live," she whispered as she tried to push herself towards the GPS.

"I have no doubt that I can find my way there," he informed her, with a secretive smile that Salome would have seen in a more cognitive state. He had found where she had lived the day that he had seen her; he had done the same with Will Graham. It gave him power over the people in his life; it was just an added bonus to the things that he knew about them that they themselves knew nothing about.

"Rick," she said as she looked out the window.

"Rick escaped from the hospital," Hannibal confirmed as he quickly looked over towards her, "I suspect he came looking for you, to finish what he started."

"No," she said with a shake of her head, a single tear fell from her bruised eye as she looked out the window, "He knows that he can hurt me by hurting Marnie."

"Tell me about Richard Allen Polk, Salome," he asked, a knowing smile came over his features, as he listened to her breath hitching in her chest as her body was starting to come under the influence of this powerful drug. He could tell that she was fighting against the soft warmth of sleep as she turned to look at him, her blue eyes wide as she looked up at him.

"I didn't love him," she confessed, a soft smile painted her face, "I agreed to marry him with the thought of my sister. She needs a real father figure in her life," she closed her eyes momentarily and then smiled as she looked up at the good doctor, "Crazy huh?"

"And you think that he will try and hurt your little sister?"

"It's my only weakness Dr. Lecter, my sister," she whispered, "I'd do anything for her. I'd sell my soul to the devil to protect her. She's the only thing that I have in this world that's worth protecting."

"Why do you feel this need to protect your sister," he asked, genuine curiosity filled his eyes as he quickly looked away from the road and to her. A button had come undone on her blouse and he could see the shadow of a scar hidden under her white spaghetti strapped undershirt.

Salome turned to him and glared at him with harsh eyes, but they softened as she allowed a knowing smile come over her pink lips, "Quid pro quo, Dr. Lecter. It's my turn."

He smiled at her sudden change of topic. She did it so gracefully, like a wild cat stalking its prey, that one would not see any sight of rudeness from her.

"Why did he change so suddenly Dr. Lecter," she asked, "Why is he reaching out now?"

Hannibal looked over to her and smiled as he asked, "What do your books tell you? You must have learned something under Jack Crawford?"

"Anger is lust and lupus is hives," she whispered. "Do you find it helpful to answer my questions with more questions, Doctor?"

"I like to see your thoughts Salome," he informed her with a smile as he watched her drooping eye lids, "Problem solving is hunting," he added, "it is savage pleasure."

She studied his face as he continued to watch the road as the sun disappeared and the moon came out slowly.

"The letter," she whispered, "He only talked about the dance. He wants me to dance for him, or the biblical Salome. Why would he term it like that?"

"He could be highly religious," Hannibal offered, his accent thick, "I heard a story of a man who went to church, and when the collection plate was passed to him, he placed his mother's severed head inside. When asked why, he said the pastor asked him to give something that he cared about to the Lord. He did just what he was asked."

"But why the brutality," she asked with a softness in her voice as the pill took hold on her, "Why the suffering? If it were mercy killings, he wouldn't torture them. He'd do it quickly and painlessly."

Hannibal smiled at her as he watched her eyes becoming heavier with every passing moment that passed between them.

"This is personal for him," he informed her, "He knows who you are. He either knows you or you remind him of someone from his life."

...

Theodore Fisher stood at his kitchen counter, right above his little secret in the dark basement. He could hear her crying for her mommy as he placed the chunk of meat onto the frying pan. The smell wafted into the air and he smiled as he recalled how the boy wept when he sliced this meat off of his fat little rump. Tobacco tar stained the white walls and pale yellow window curtains. The dark green linoleum on the floor was warped and cracked. The house wasn't very well kept; small roaches crawled across the floor and the filth. Used needles and forgotten pizza boxes littered the table; only a small place was cleared for him to eat.

Theodore was not handsome in any sense of the word. He was lanky and tall. The muscle that he had gained in his teenage years had slowly withered away from years of drug use. His nose was long and crooked like the beak of a hawk. His eyes were grey and absent of human tenderness. His ashen brown hair was oily from days without a bath. He wore a black wife beater under his apron and ripped blue jeans. His chest hair poked out above the shirt and apron, tattoos covered his arms. Sailor's tattoos littered his body, though he had never served in any military unit. He was just a man that was born into a bad life. He knew that if he were ever caught, he would be a prime candidate for the nature vs. nurture argument. Which would win out in his case, any one could guess the answer. He knew what he did was wrong, but he didn't care. He would listen to what his mind told him to do and ignore what the others would say. He enjoyed what he did, but another side of him hated what he did. He was an enigma even to himself. He just existed. He had become something that he did not understand.

A cigarette stood limply between his lips as he mixed in onions and other spices into his cannibalistic concoction. The smell wafted throughout the air, the sweet smell invaded his senses and caused his heart to beat with excitement. He wiped his long fingers onto his white apron that said "Kiss the Cook or Kiss my Ass" in home stitched lettering.

He smiled as smoke rose from the pan. A television from the living room played footage of the officers at the Long home. Memories from patiently waiting and watching came to his mind. When he had first heard that Salome Ashwood had been on his case, he had panicked, but now he was more reserved. It would be a pleasure to have her catch him. He had waited to find the perfect victim. He didn't have to travel far to find her either. The girl lived only a few blocks away from him. He had spotted her playing along on the jungle gym at the small park on the outskirts of town.

Theodore Fisher smiled as he heard the reporter ask pressing questions.

"Has the FBI found anything that the public should be made aware of?"

"Why the sudden change from little boys to little girls?"

"Could you tell us in detail what this man does to these children?"

Details. That's what the newspapers were lacking. The FBI was keeping a tight lid on this investigation, he knew. The letter that he had sent had been leaked, but the contents of the letter or why he had specifically wrote it to the female agent had been kept a secret.

He moved away from the stove and turned to look at his wall that he had turned into an almost shrine like wall of newspaper clippings. Pictures of Salome Ashwood and her cases littered the wall. Silver and gold tacks kept them posted upon the wall. In red marker, her picture had been circled. Some pictures, he had depicted her as the devil.

Theodore smiled as he looked at the photos. A faded picture, which he recently added to the shrine, looked back at him. A dark haired man, a blonde woman, and two small girls looked back at him with bright blue eyes. The Ashwood family looked back at him.

"What have you done Teddy," a soft voice from beside him asked.

He turned quickly to see his sister standing in the corner. Her long dark hair stood out along with her dark sullen eyes. Lana Fisher had been dead for two years. She looked at him with dead eyes. In life she looked to be Salome Ashwood's twin sister, but in death she was a demonic specter that haunted him to remind him of every misdeed that he had ever committed.

"Noth…nothin'," he answered as he watched her stand deathly still in the corner. Her skin was white and rotten, the smell of her decaying skin caused him to gag.

"You killed those children," she replied, her words were almost hypnotic, begging him to come closer, but he rebelled against her.

"You told me to do it," he hissed as he glared at the empty corner.

"You are a scab," the voice hissed in anger, "Momma shoulda drowned you like she did Billy."

Theodore Fisher closed his eyes as hot tears fell down his cheeks. His long fingers dug into his forehead under his long dark bangs. He shook in fear at his sister's harsh words. The smell of burning flesh filled his senses and he willed his eyes open. His sister's specter had faded away in the darkness. He turned to see the meat starting to sizzle to black. He hurried to the stove and pulled the pan off the flame. The meat sizzled as the heat was removed.

Cries could be heard from below him and he shushed her from above. He quickly dumped the meat onto a ceramic plate along with a helping of two day old instant mashed potatoes that had started to spoil in his empty refrigerator.

"Supper's ready lil one," he announced in a soft sing song voice with a smile as he walked down the steps to the cold, dark basement.

The steps creaked as he walked down the old wooden steps. The rancid smell of filth and cobwebs entered his nostrils as he entered the darkness. He flipped the light switch on and smiled as he saw three corpses of stripped deer hanging above the little girl hiding hopelessly in the corner.

"All good girls go to Heaven if they do as they're told," he informed Sarah with a bright smile as he looked down at her, "Now eat. You want to go to Heaven, don't you?"

...

Jack Crawford watched as the headlights from Salome's car entered in the driveway. Journalists moved out of the way before narrowly being run over. Jack hurried over to the car and watched as Hannibal removed himself from the driver's side.

"Is she okay," Jack asked as he peered in through the window to see Salome's eyes closed with her head leaned against the window. The seat belt kept her head from falling and causing her unneeded neck cramps.

"She's fine," Hannibal informed him as he walked over to the passenger side, "She took a relaxer after her panic attack. I warned her against it."

"Her sister has been worried sick," Jack replied as he watched the good doctor open the passenger door and lightly wake his agent up.

Jack watched as Salome's eyes jerked open and she jumped slightly at the sight of Hannibal Lecter standing over her. She was still drowsy as the good doctor helped her out of the car and allowed her to walk on her own towards the house. He accompanied her for safe measure.

"Where's Marnie," Jack heard Salome whisper as she passed by him.

"She's in the house," Jack informed her as he walked beside her and Hannibal, "She's safe."

Hannibal saw a flash of red hair in the corner of his eyes as he walked up the stairs. Freddie Lounds hid behind the siding of the house, waiting like a predator to pounce on its targeted victim. He looked over to Jack Crawford and pointed subtly to the side of Salome's home. Hannibal watched as Jack followed his directions to see the nosy reporter hiding in the dark.

"I'll handle her," Jack said softly as he eased over to the siding and smiled as he saw her, "Ms. Lounds, aren't you on the wrong side of the tape?"

"Agent Ashwood," a new, male voice said from behind Hannibal.

Hannibal and Salome turned to see Sebastian Martin standing in a newly pressed navy blue suit. His hair was slicked back with gel and the same weasel like smile stood on his lips as he looked over her tired face.

"Have you figured out the letter," he asked as his long legs took steps of their own accord up the steps until he stood in front of her.

Hannibal watched with a hidden smirk as Salome's eyes darkened.

"Oh, you can't see if I have it or not," she asked, "Isn't that what psychics do," she allowed a condescending smile come upon her lips as she looked him over, "or are you really not a psychic?"

"No," Sebastian answered, his smile ever remaining on his lips as he eyed her up and down, "What I meant to say is that I can help you? I've seen him."

"And how can you help me Mr. Martin," she asked with a raised brow, her pep was coming back into her step. She stepped closer towards him, invading his personal space. Hannibal watched the scene unfold with interest like one would watch an animal closing in for the kill.

"I see him," he said, slightly overwhelmed by her close proximity, "He's taking real good care of her for now. I also see you. He has a picture of you."

Hannibal watched as, like lightning, Salome shoved the tall, lanky man against the door. He watched as the woman jerked the so called psychic's arms behind his back with one hand and ripped her hand cuffs from her belt with the other. She quickly cuffed his hands and ignored his protests of pain.

"Sebastian Martin," she recited with a smile on her face as Jack and several officers hurried upon the porch, "You are under arrest for the suspicion of murder and kidnapping. Do you understand?"

She held her hand upon his shoulder tightly as she jerked him back around to face her.

"I didn't do-"

Hannibal watched as she began to recite his rights that he could tell she had recited many, many times before as Crawford came up to them.

"What's going on," Jack asked as Salome continued reciting Sebastian's rights.

"This man was talking about the little girl," Hannibal answered for Salome, "He was using details that only the guilty party would know about."

"Take him," Salome demanded of a uniformed officer. Her eyes darted to Jack and she said, "I want him in a holding cell tonight. I want to question him personally."

"Sally," Jack began.

"I think it's better if you went to bed for now," Hannibal informed her, "That's a doctor's orders."

"No I want to-"

"He will still be there in the morning Sally," Jack reassured her as he looked at the newly fixed door to her house, "Listen to Dr. Lecter. Don't want to disobey the doctor's orders, do you?"

"No," Hannibal answered for her, "Certainly don't want to do that."

Marnie opened the door to see her sister wobbling slightly on tired legs on the porch with anger boiling in her eyes as she stood between two larger men.

"Is she okay," Marnie asked as she reached for her older sister and pulled her through the threshold of the house. Hannibal and Jack followed after the two women.

"She will be," Hannibal informed her, "She took a nerve pill, but she will be fine in a few hours."

"Maybe you should take her to bed," Jack offered.

"I'm fine," Salome announced as she looked at her sister with a soft smile, "Are you?"

"I'm fine. Rick pussied out when the alarm went off," Marnie said softly as she pulled Salome towards the stairs, leaving the two men alone in the living room.

Hannibal looked over the comfy house. Pictures of Marnie and Salome lined the walls as well as small knick knacks from the state of Kentucky lined the small dressers lined against the stair well.

"What did she see that she needs Will," Jack asked of Hannibal referring to the phone call the good doctor had placed while Salome had been sleeping, "She's never called for him to come and look at something."

"There was a mural painted on the wall," Hannibal answered honestly, "of Little Red Riding Hood."

"What does it mean?"

"That's why she wants Will," Hannibal informed him as his fingers lightly touched against the mahogany desk that stood in the corner, out of the way. He breathed in the life that existed within this home. The smell of dried blood still filled the air from the violent altercation of days ago. The bleach did little to cover the smell from his heightened senses.

"Did you have a chance to look at the letter," Jack asked as he followed Hannibal deeper into the living room.

"I did, yes," Hannibal answered.

"And? Is there anything significant?"

"Not really," Hannibal lied with indifference, "The ramblings of a mad man. He's overly religious, Jack. I think that you could start by looking up the churches for members that are overly excited about the word of God."

The heavy footsteps of Marnie echoed throughout the house as she hurried to the two men that she left in the living room.

"She should sleep fine," she said as she entered the living room, "She hasn't slept in her own bed since this whole Wolf killer thing started," she folded her hands against her chest as she looked over to Hannibal, "Thank you…for taking care of her. I know how she can get when things like this happen."

Jack looked over to Hannibal and then to Marnie and said as he walked out of the living room, "I think you two have some things to discuss. I'll just get rid of these reporters and place my men in position."

"Thank you Jack," Marnie announced after him, never taking her eyes off the psychiatrist that stood in the living room.

"So you're him," she asked, "Dr. Lecter? I saw your name on a card that Sal had left on the coffee table."

"Yes," he replied casually, "And you must be Marnie. I've heard a lot about you."

"Yeah I figured," Marnie replied softly, she looked up at him and shook her head, "You think that you can help her?"

"Help her with what," he asked.

"I'm not a child,"Marnie replied in a cold tone, "She sees me as a child that needs looking after," she rolled her eyes slightly, "She's the child."

"You don't like that your sister worries about you," Hannibal asked as he watched the young girl's body language.

Marnie shook her shoulders and replied, "I don't know. She is just overly protective."

"Can you blame her," he asked, "From the things that she has seen?"

"That's just it," Marnie replied, "I've seen the things that she brings home. I saw the same things that she saw in Kentucky and Texas," she looked the doctor in the eyes and asked, "Can you help her see that I'm a grown woman. I mean it's nice to know that she cares, but she has to let me go, you know? She can't keep coddling me and worrying over me like a mother hen. I graduate this year. I'll be going off to college. I can't have her in my dorm every day checking up on me. I'd be like the laughing stock of the dorm house."

Hannibal smiled at her knowingly and nodded, "I think I can help your sister. You will just have to bare with me. It will be a slow start, but then one day you will wake up and all of that will be changed. You'll see soon enough."


	7. In the Midnight Hour

**Chapter 7: In the Midnight Hour**

**So I'm not really a fan of this chapter. It's a little shorter than the previous chapters. It was going to be a lot longer but I kind of like the little cliff that ends with this chapter. I hope you enjoy. **

* * *

The soft carpet moved underneath his feet as Hannibal slowly edged toward the bedrooms. Salome and her younger sister slept soundly as he prowled around their home, taking in the smells of recent dried blood and the smells of their shared lives. He was careful not to make a sound as he entered the bedroom. The door cried softly as he pushed it slowly open. His heart rate was slow as he made his way into the bedroom where the young agent had fallen asleep before turning off the bedside lamp. The light threw shadows against the wall of the good doctor, his shadow moved across the wall as if he were Dracula approaching a sleeping victim.

He crept like the great predators of Africa towards Salome's bed. He could hear a slight hitch in her breathing, signaling to him that she was dreaming of some long lost life that she had given up to take care of her teenaged sister and to save the lives of people that were highly unthankful. Hannibal looked her room over. A single picture sat on her small table beside her queen sized bed. He looked the photograph over carefully and could see that it was of a teenaged Salome with her arms flung around her younger sister's shoulders, bright white smiles from the sisters looked back at him. In front of the picture frame her pistol sat within arm's reach; he knew she kept it there in case of the noisy cat burglars or for her ex fiancé.

Hannibal looked down at Salome sleeping soundly. Her head rested heavily on the pillow with her body draped over the bed. Her comforter was bunched up at her waist and a white sheet wrapped protectively over her body as if it knew there would be prying eyes that crept inside during the night. Hannibal smiled as her long locks formed a dark halo around her relaxed face. He quickly moved a strand of hair from her eyes and watched as her head, on its own accord, moved away from his touch in what seemed to be smart repulsion.

He moved away from the sleeping detective. A quick crackling sound came from under his feet and he quickly looked down to see a white envelope hidden underneath his shoes. He bent over and grabbed the envelope. Hannibal smelled the envelope before reading the addresses. He could smell the distinct flavor of dirty coal miner hands. He smiled as he looked down at the address to see that it had been from Salome's father in Kentucky.

The good doctor silently pulled the letter out of its temporary shelter within the crumpled envelope and held it slightly so he could read the scribbled words in the lamp light. The script was hurried and messy at first glance, but upon close inspection Hannibal knew it was the writings of a man in need of a fix.

'_Dear Sally', _the letter read, '_I saw your picture in the paper. My good friend showed it to me. I've been thinking a lot about your momma and you girls. I hope you and your sister are doing good. How is my little tadpole? She still like frogs? I want to see you both soon. Maybe you both can come home for Thanksgiving or Christmas. I sure would like to see you both, I'm not doing so good. Doctor Samuels says I got some kind of infection. I've been sick for a few weeks now. I'd sure like to make things right before I…I just want you girls to know that I am trying hard to get off this stuff. I want us to be a family, like we were before. I really would like to see you again. I owe you the biggest apology baby girl. I don't expect forgiveness. I don't deserve it. But I just want one chance to see you girls again.'_

The letter continued rambling in the same fashion until the man finally signed his name and left a phone number for his daughter to respond. Hannibal Lecter's eyes moved back to the top of the page where a date had been hurriedly scribbled. _June 8_ looked back at him in blue ink. Salome Ashwood's father had written to her and begged her to come home months ago. It seemed to be the man's dying wish and yet he knew from the placement of the letter under her bed, that it was a wish that the man's daughter would not grant him.

"Salome," Hannibal whispered as he looked over to the sleeping woman, "That was a very underhanded thing you did."

Salome's sighed as she moved toward the voice, the comforter made a slight shimmering at the sudden movement. The lids of her eyes fluttered ever so slightly as she began to settle back into her pillow. A small, peaceful smile fell over her relaxed face. A soft sigh escaped her and Hannibal smiled at the sleeping woman. He started to walk away but a sudden imperfection upon her skin caught his attention. His eyes moved down her neck, passed her chest and to her mid drift where her shirt had shifted ever so slightly during her sudden movement from his words. Just under the cloth of her shirt, a long scar etched up her stomach. Scars from stitch marks painted up the sides of the long imperfection. The good doctor could tell from the slight curve in the scar that she had been the victim of an assailant with a switchblade knife.

Hannibal smiled as he moved closer to her, he grabbed the ends of the comforter and pulled it over her like the caring father that she had never had. He looked over the sleeping woman with curiosity. She was interesting; she and Will were proving to be his most enjoyable victims to toy with. He was going to wind them up and watch them go, the fun part would be seeing which one would falter first and if they had the ability to save each other.

"Sweet dreams Salome," he whispered as he moved away the sleeping Ashwood daughter. He backed away from her slowly and began to turn around to leave the Ashwood home.

"Frederick," Salome's hushed voice broke through the silence that had cloaked the Ashwood household. Confusion invaded Hannibal's mind momentarily, only to be swept away as he recalled that this woman had been seeing Frederick Chilton for some time, whether it was for romantic or psychological reasons he had yet to determine.

"You can stay 'til morning," her accent slipped into her sleepy voice as she turned away from the doctor that had crept into her bedroom like a monster in a fairy tale that would steal all of one's secrets and use them for vile deeds.

...

Salome walked into Crawford's office. He had awaken her from a dream filled slumber and told her to come to his office immediately but gave no indication as to why he needed her there ASAP. Jack stood looking at the map of victims from another crime, crimes of _The Chesapeake Ripper._ She turned to see Will Graham sitting in the chair, grasping onto his coffee cup as if his life depended upon it. The anxiety that filled the room was almost tangible.

"Jack," Salome asked as she closed the door behind her and acknowledged her old partner, "Will," her eyes darted back to Jack as he kept his back to her, "What's going on?"

"She called," Jack said under his breath in attempt to keep his words covered from the ears of his best agents.

"What," Salome asked, a smile of relief painted her features, "Sarah made contact?"

"Miriam," Jack stated.

"Miriam," Salome asked in confusion as she looked over to Will for clarity then back to Jack Crawford, "as in Miriam Lass? That doesn't make sense."

"I don't know," Jack answered as he turned quickly to look at the woman that had tutored Miriam Lass for some time before she had recommended Miriam to him, "But she called me last night."

"There's no trace back to-"

"It's been over two years Jack," Salome stated, interrupting Will, "Where has she been hiding all this time?"

"I don't know," Jack Crawford admitted with a shake of his head, "Freddie Lounds is saying that the Chesapeake Ripper is locked up in Chilton's cages."

"Dr. Gideon," she answered, "I read the article. Are we assuming that Freddie is right on this? You know what happens when you assume."

Salome moved deeper into his office, three brilliant minds in one office questioning a mysterious phone call.

"With all due respect sir," Salome stated, "I am not privy on the Chesapeake Ripper," her eyes moved over to Will Graham, "I wasn't deemed suitable for the case. And to be brutally blunt, I don't really care about the Chesapeake Ripper. What I can suggest is take Alana Bloom with you to see Dr. Chilton. Get an interview with Gideon, see what he knows," her eyes burned into Jack Crawford's brown orbs, "You are the head of behavioral science, start acting like you are and stop depending on agents to do a job that you were a pioneer in creating."

Jack Crawford glared at the daring agent in front of her. Her eyes were dull as her eyes kept in line with his angered eyes. Will shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he watched the stand down in front of him. The woman that he had been partners with years ago stood firm in her place as her superior glared at her.

"I don't care about Miriam Lass," Salome added harshly, "I care about Sarah Long and the dead children. Now, I am sorry if that hurts your feelings, but I have a little girl that only has a couple of days to live. If you do not have anything on my case then I am-"

"He knows you," Will finally spoke up. He stood from his chair and walked over to his old partner. Salome backed away from him ever so slightly as the unsettling news registered within her mind.

"How?"

"It was you in that painting on the wall," Will stated as his fumbled into his pocket for an Aspirin. Salome watched him with unsettling curiosity.

"Is this another jump that you can't explain," Salome asked, a slight bitterness lingered on her tongue as she looked him over in his dark green flannel shirt that needed ironing two weeks ago. She shook her head and allowed an annoyed smile cross her lips, "I'm going to need more than that."

"Sebastian received an email last night on his cell phone," Jack informed her, anger still flickered in his eyes from their previous conversation, "It was sent to him after Freddie Lounds wrote an article about you having him arrested for conspiracy."

"He's from Kentucky," Will informed Salome; his eyes never quite reached her own eyes as she absorbed this information.

"I want you in Kentucky," Jack added as he moved away from his desk, "We'll put it in The Tattler that you have a lead there. He'll come out."

She shook her head in disagreement, "I'm not going to Kentucky. I have a contact there that I am close with. If there is something-"

"No," Jack interrupted quickly, "This is how it is going to go. No more insubordination on your part. You are going to Kentucky."

"I'm not-"

"You do as I tell you to do," Jack said, his voice rose in anger as he glared down at the woman, "You are under my direct command until Sarah Long is rescued or her body is found."

Salome was stunned silent momentarily from his words. She looked over to Will who was looking away out of respect for her. She bit the inside of her lip then shook her head, her eyes met with her superior.

Her bottom lip quivered slightly as she asked, "Are you taking me off this case, Jack?"

Jack nodded his answer, "You showed last night that this is too much."

"No," she answered quickly in her own defense, "That isn't fair. My sister was in danger. You can't hold that against me. What if your wife-"

"What goes on in our personal lives is supposed to stay out of our work," Jack informed her. His stature was serious as he looked over the woman in front of him. He couldn't see it, but inside she was crumbling at his words.

"At the end of this investigation, you are to surrender your badge and your weapon, Agent Ashwood. Dr. Lecter and I discussed this in depth this morning. He thinks it would be best for you to have a break and I agree with him."

Salome bit her bottom lip as the earth shattering news registered in her mind. She shook her head in agreement and swallowed back the sob that was developing in her throat that was desperately trying to escape.

She squared her shoulders and swallowed her pain once again as she replied, "Before I go to Kentucky I want to see this letter. I also want to talk with Sebastian. I still think he has some connection to our killer."

"That's fine," Jack answered, "But have it done by 7 AM tomorrow. Your plane leaves. You won't be alone. I'm giving you an undercover team in case anything happens to you down there."

"Thank you," she stated, her words were void of emotion or true gratitude, "I'll see you after I get back from Kentucky."

* * *

**And there is the end of 7! **

**So what do you think about Sally not going to see her father? Is that a little coldhearted and selfish on her part to not give someone their dying wish or would it be completely understandable given the circumstances?**

**And what about what Crawford just dealt her? That's a pretty harsh blow! **

**Reviews would be lovely :)**

**(There hasn't been a Will/Salome scene yet, with just the two of them. I'm planning on one in the next chapter)**


	8. Stressful Starlings

**Chapter 8: Stressful Starlings**

**Sorry for the long wait, but I am finally finished with my 20 page research paper! And for sticking with me, I have a special treat for you all :)**

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Salome sat in front of Sebastian Martin who was still handcuffed and dressed in the clothes that he had been dressed in the night before. He eyed her carefully as she looked down absently at the foam cup of hot coffee that rested between her pale hands. Steam danced out of the liquid like ballerinas performing some strange, magical dance.

"Agent Ashwood," Sebastian said sheepishly as he leaned forward. He watched life rush back into her eyes as she looked up at him. She shook her head momentarily and took a sip of her morning coffee.

Salome's eyes brightened as she swallowed the anger that was running throughout her being as she glared at the fake in front of her. Her eyes held a fearsome intent as she looked him over, she was going to get her answer from this man and she was going to save the girl. Then she was going to leave Jack Crawford for good.

"Are you okay," Sebastian asked.

She lifted her brows and asked, "I thought you would already know. You are psychic right?"

He smiled at her smugly and leaned back into the hard chair, the handcuffs jingled against the table as he moved his hands away from the wood, "I know it's more than that shitty coffee you are forced to drink here."

"You know," she said as she let a smile slip, "you are right about that. This coffee does taste like shit. It's nothin' like the coffee I get back home."

"And home is?"

"Kentucky," she answered, "What part of Kentucky are you from?"

Sebastian smiled and replied with a shrug of his shoulders, "I'm not from Kentucky, Sally. I'm from Boston."

"Fair enough," she answered with a smug smile though her voice was carrying an angered tone as she glared at him, "Who is the Wolf Moon Killer? We know you are working with him. Any minute now, one of our crime lab attendants is going to waltz right in here and tell me every phone call, every email, every text, and every god damned place you have ever been since you came out of your momma."

"You are checking my email?"

"Oh it's already been checked and it's from someone in Kentucky," she informed him.

"Then why aren't you in Kentucky right now," he asked, knowingly trying to probe into her thick skin.

"Oh I have a plane to catch after I'm done with you," she answered, "but we're not going to be able to find anything."

"And why is that," Sebastian asked as he leaned closer to the table as he became more and more interested in what the agent had to tell him.

"I'm from Kentucky," Salome answered honestly as she leaned back in her chair, "Criminals are a dime a dozen up there and they know how to not get caught. The email is going to pop up at some business center where many, many people use on a daily basis so no one can recall just who used it. And you know what else? With it being a fairly rural place, I can bet my retirement that the security cameras had been disabled by employees looking for some shit to sell for their various habits. Some Kentuckians are easy to predict when the law is involved."

"But not Bostonians," he asked.

She smiled at his answer, "You're sitting in a jail cell and he's out," her eyes went dark, "Time is running out for your little friend."

"He's not my friend," Sebastian answered, "The email was just sent to me this morning, you are going to find nothing else that will connect me to this crazy bastard," he shook his head and raised his hands as if he were praising Jesus in church, "I swear to you Sally, I don't know who this psycho is. I want you to find that little girl as much as the parents are counting on you. I think you can be a hero."

"Don't call me Sally," she informed him bitterly, "Now I'm going to ask you one more time."

Sebastian watched as Salome removed her side piece and pointed it at him. The sound of clicking entered the room as she pulled the pin back, readying to fire at him. He raised his hands quickly as fear quickly covered his features.

"You can't do this," he informed her as he watched her smile and turn towards the mirror that faced him.

"Do what?"

"That's coercion," he informed her.

"I know the law, don't really care at the moment," she answered smugly as she held the gun firmly in her hand, "What do you know of the Moon Wolf Killer?"

He shook his head and answered, "Nothing."

"I think you are lying," she suggested as she stood from her seat and walked towards him, "Now is there anything that you can tell me that will keep me from going to Kentucky?"

Sebastian eyed the pistol in her hand carefully as she stood beside him, the barrel never left his line of sight as she stood over him. Unbeknownst to him, she smiled as she held the empty gun in her hand beside him.

"I don't know anything," he informed her quickly, "He just sent the email to me. Nothing else! I swear!"

"Shit," Salome whispered and placed her gun back into the holster at her side, "You don't know anything about him, huh?"

"No. Just what was in the email."

"Then why you," she asked.

"Because he wants you in Kentucky," he answered honestly, "He wants you back home with your family. He said he wants to trade you for the little girl."

"My family is dead," she informed him.

"That's what was in the email," he said, his voice was shaky as he looked up at the female agent that had gotten the better of him.

Salome eyed him carefully for signs that he may have lied to her, but she could not find anything from his demeanor that said he was. She quickly turned away from him with a new ambition in her chest. She was going to end this all.

"Why don't you want to go back to Kentucky?"

She stopped at the door and turned slowly around to face Sebastian Martin and replied, "Because I don't need there."

Sebastian watched with careful eyes as she turned from him and opened the door while saying, "They're letting you go, but you best stay away from my house while I'm gone."

"You'll find her Agent Ashwood. You'll find her in Kentucky. I can see it," he reassured the agent as he watched the door close behind her, leaving him alone in the cold, cement blocked room until an officer decided what time he was free to leave.

...

_Twenty Years Earlier: Kentucky_

_ Young Salome sat on the floor in front of the television set. Her best friend in all of Kentucky, Lester Ryans, sat beside her. They both wore raggedy, holey blue jeans and old hand me down shirts that their surviving parents had gotten them from the local thrift shop at a cheap price. Baby Marley was asleep in her baby bed in a back room of the house as the two young children watched cartoons on the living room floor. Lester Ryans was only a few months older than Salome and was the proud owner of the greenest eyes in all of Kentucky and dark brown hair that he had inherited from his murdered father. The residents of all the hollows in the county had unanimously decided that the two children would end up happily ever after with the amount of time the two had stuck together in their young, miserable lives. At the tender ages of eleven years old, they had witnessed death, addiction, whoring, and homicide. It had been there accustomed life, but they both had an understanding that they would not be part of it, that they would stop all of the sin in the county together when they came of age to be able to do something effectively to stop the illegal activities that ravaged their lives that were supposed to remain innocent._

"_You think we'll ever get married," Lester asked over Woody Woodpecker's noisiness on the old television set. He watched with eyes full of childhood interest as his best friend turned to look at him with a strange, funny look._

"_What," she asked with a smile in disbelief as she moved closer to her best friend since she could remember. _

"_You know my momma keeps talkin' 'bout us being sweet on each other," he answered, the town drawl clear in his voice. _

_Salome looked at her friend's fresh burn on his forearm from a lit cigarette that his mother had been smoking on. A feeling of sadness, regret, and anger moved through her body. Her father had only hit her once when she had forgotten to put something of his up, but Lester received his punishments almost weekly from his single mother._

"_Let me see your arm," she demanded as she held her hand out in order for him to hand her his wounded arm. She smiled as he did as she asked._

"_One day I'm gonna get out of here," he informed her, "but I ain't gonna leave without you Sally-May," he watched her closely as she looked away from him and towards the back bedroom where her baby sister slept soundly, "and your baby sister."_

"_You promise?"_

"_I cross my heart and hope to die if I don't keep that promise," he replied with a smile as he pulled his arm away from her warm grasp, "I'm gonna be a cop and first thing I'm gonna do is put your daddy and my momma in prison for good."_

_Salome smiled at Lester and pressed a small, childish kiss upon his chapped lips and replied, "You better marry me Lester Ryans or I'll leave Kentucky without you and never come back."_

_The front door banged open and her father's voice boomed within the house. Salome and Lester hurried to their feet. She turned and watched Lester hurry out the back door of their house and into the woods behind their house._

"_I'll find you," she said after him as her father's voice came closer and closer towards her._

"_Sally," her father's voice billowed through the house._

"_Yeah daddy," she asked as she watched her drunken father stumble into the living room. Blood fell from his nose, blood stained his knuckles, and he held an old Smith & Wesson in his right hand. Blood speckled his old, grease stained shirt and fear moved through Salome as she looked her father over._

"_What happened to you," she asked in concern as she moved slowly towards him. She watched as his eyes darted to the windows. _

"_I need you to take this," he demanded loudly as he shoved the pistol into her tiny hands, "and hide it! You don't tell anyone where it is and what happened! You understand me girl?"_

"_Yes sir," she whispered and turned her back on her drunken, bloodied father and hurried out the back door in the same direction into the woods that Lester Ryans had taken to escape from her father._

_Her heart beat loudly in her ears as her legs pounded into the ground carrying her deeper and deeper into the woods that surrounded her home and the homes of others that lived in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky. Fallen leaves and twigs crackled under her tennis shoes as she made her quick escape into the woods. Mud splattered onto her jeans as she found herself beside the small creek that ran cut through the middle of the woods. She looked around her for anyone that may have followed her only to find that she was alone. Her eyes locked onto an old tree that grew on the creek bank, half of its roots grew into the water and mud while the other half of the root system grew gnarly like into the hardened earth of the creek bank. A small crevice, only big enough for a small critter, called for her to stash the gun inside where it would be kept safe. _

"_What are you doing," she heard Lester's voice ask from behind her as she placed the pistol into the hole and threw some fallen autumn leaves over it to keep it hidden. She turned with a pale face and tear filled eyes. A sob escaped her and she soon felt Lester's arms around her hugging her tightly in an effort to keep the world away._

"_What did he do to you," Lester asked protectively, anger laced his words as he allowed his friend to cry into his chest as she held him for comfort._

"_He didn't do nothin' to me," she answered as she tried to steady her breathing and control the sobs. The tears fell on their own accord, she could not stop them. The stress from her life had finally caught up with her._

"_Then what's wrong," he asked._

_Salome pulled away and looked from Lester to the tree where the gun laid like a sleeping dragon in a dark cave or a monster in a dark dungeon. _

"_I think," she whispered as she turned back to her friend, "You have to promise not to say anything."_

"_Salome! What happened," he asked harshly as he looked her over, the fear in her eyes and voice were too much for him to handle._

"_I think he killed someone," she said and hugged him once again as sobs riddled throughout her body once again, "He told me to hide the gun!"_

"_Salome, it's okay," he reassured her as he comforted her, "He ain't gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna tell anyone unless you want me to. We'll just keep the gun in this tree until you are ready for it to be taken out."_

"_Promise?"_

"_I cross my heart."_

_..._

Salome opened the large door with a hard push into Will Graham's classroom. She could see he was in the middle of a class, so she stood in the dark corner of the room and waited for the lecture to be over. She looked over the students and watched as several of their eyes roamed over her while others whispered about her exploits as a FBI and CIA agent. She watched as a young woman's eyes lit up as soon as Will dismissed the class, she could tell that the young female student wanted a word with her, but she didn't have the time for her at the moment. She had to talk with her old partner.

"Do you know who that is," Salome heard the female student say as she watched the girl and her mulatto skinned friend walk passed her and out into the hallway to their next class.

"No," the friend answered.

"That's Salome Ashwood," the girl whispered, "That's one of Crawford's agents. She's taken down several men. She's one of the best female students that have ever graduated from here."

"You don't say," said the friend.

Salome ignored their conversation and made her way to Will Graham with a frown upon her face. She looked him in the eyes until the last of his students left the room.

"Was it your idea," she asked, her voice was flat and void of any emotion that would betray her real feelings.

"No," Will answered as he looked away from her, "In spite of what you may think, I think you should stay here. I don't think you need to go to Kentucky."

She looked down to the floor as anger and sadness built up inside of her chest at his words. A suffocating ball of emotion tried to make its way into her throat, but she forced herself to look back up to Will. Salome shook her head and forced the tears back that were trying to form in the corners of her eyes just at the thought of going back to Kentucky.

"I need you Will," she admitted and looked him in the eyes, "I can't do this by myself."

Will looked at her with an astonished light in his eyes. Her admission had taken him by complete surprise.

"Excuse me?"

"Don't make me say it again," she whispered as she licked at her lip, "We make a great team. I can't do this without you. I wish I could but…"

She trailed off with her words and she turned away from him.

"What happened to you hating my guts," he asked as he looked at her lowered, defeated shoulders. In all of the years that he had known Salome, he had never wished to see her in such a defeated position.

"I got stabbed," she said with a soft chuckle, "it was bound to happen one day," she shook her head as she turned to face him, "I had no place to blame you. It could have been a lot worse if you hadn't have been there," she took a deep breath.

"Salome, are you trying to apologize to me," he asked as he looked her over.

"You're a shitty friend," she informed him, "but you're a damn good partner and you're good at what you do. I'm only apologizing for blaming you, nothing else."

"Nothing else," he asked, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I heard you," she informed him as she placed her hands on her hips, "I'm only telling you this now, in case something happens to me in Kentucky."

He shook his head in confusion and said, "What…what did you hear exactly? I'm sorry but I'm a little confused as to where this is going."

"You know the great thing about this country," she asked and continued without his answer, "It's that I can sleep and fall in love with anyone that I want because this is a free country," her eyes darkened as she glared at him, "I heard you talking to your friend about how I was some white trash tramp that probably slept her way into law enforcement."

His eyes furrowed still in confusion. He searched deep within his mind for the memory that his old partner was referencing.

"Salome," he said as he shook his head, "I don't ever remember saying those horrible things."

"No," she answered, "You were drunk, but drunken words are a sober man's thoughts."

A silence filled the room as tears beaded within her eyes, but she blinked them back in an effort to keep them from falling.

"I didn't mean it," he answered, "I've always thought that you were a good cop. Yes I didn't like you, but I don't ever remember thinking anything like that. If you say I said that, then I must have, but I don't remember it and I know I have never thought of you in that light. In fact, I always wondered why-"

"Why not you," she finished as she moved closer to him, invading his personal bubble.

"I wasn't going to say that," he answered as he looked into her sad eyes.

"Then what were you going to say?"

"I always wondered why you never found someone worthy of you," he informed her. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he added, "I mean Frederick Chilton? Really?"

She smiled at him and moved back ever so slightly, "He's a good lover. Nothing more."

Will looked her over and shook his head. They had been through a lot together and had helped each other through a lot when they were partners all those years ago.

"I'm sorry this happened to you," he whispered.

"Then come with me to Kentucky," she whispered in return, "I don't want to go back there."

"What's so bad in Kentucky," he asked as he watched the tears fill her eyes and her bottom lip quiver, "Your daddy?"

"It's complicated," she answered and she shook her head and turned away from him. Tears began to fall from her eyes and she forced herself to move to the door. She had promised herself that no one would ever see her cry. She hurried with her head down towards the women's bathroom. She quickly pushed herself inside and fell against the back of the door. The sobs escaped her as she felt her body want to give up on her. The reality of returning to Kentucky, the stress of having a girl's life depend on her actions, and the anger that had built up since Rick had tried to kill her had returned to her once again. The stress had caught up with her once again. All those years of refusing to deal with it all had finally gotten her back. Her face was contorted with sadness as the pain washed over her in waves that tried to drown her.

"Are you okay," a female voice asked, the voice held a West Virginian lilt to it.

Salome looked up with red eyes to see a woman with blonde hair making her way out of a stall towards the sinks. She watched as the woman looked her over with sympathetic eyes.

"I'm fine," she answered as she pulled her emotions back into place. She made her way towards the sink and quickly turned the cold water on to wash the tears from her face.

"You're Agent Salome Ashwood aren't you," the student asked as she watched Salome wash her face, "I saw you walk into Will Graham's classroom. I'm Clarice Starling."

"You one of his students," Salome asked.

"No," she answered, "His class was already filled up. Maybe next time though," a large smile came over her face as she looked at Salome, "Can I just say that you are like a role model to me? You and Jack Crawford are what made me want to be here."

Salome nodded at the girl as she grabbed paper towels to wipe the water off of her face.

"Can I ask you for something," Clarice asked politely as she moved closer to her role model.

"As long as it has nothing to do with my case."

"No," Clarice answered with a smile, "No, nothing like that."

"Well here are the best pieces of advice that I can give you," Salome answered with a forced smile, "One with Jack Crawford never assume anything. He will tell you this tired joke about what happens when you assume something," she rolled her eyes, "and he will say it every time, every single time you say it. Two, never let anyone see you cry. Being a woman in this line of work is very, very hard. Cry where no one can see you, I prefer bathrooms and my car. And third, this is probably the best advice I could give you Ms. Sterling-"

"Starling," Clarice corrected politely, "It's Clarice Starling."

"Right," Salome answered with a smile, "Ms. Starling, find a new profession. This job is not worth all the pain and betrayal that you will fill in the long run. It's not worth it."

Clarice stood flabbergasted as she watched her role model leave without another word and into the world to save another victim.

* * *

**And there we have Clarice Starling! I promised there would be a Will/Salome scene and there we have it! It's not how I had originally planned on it to go between them both, but hey that's how it ended up being. **

**Did you like the flashback?**

**So in the next chapter we are going to be in Kentucky. **

**I love reviews! They would be so great to have :)**


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